Veni, Vidi, Vici
by Exilo
Summary: The alliance is hunting down the Brutes, slaughtering them by the droves. They're running scared, and when they are cornered on a distant colony, a small squad is sent to deal with them. But this colony has a secret. A dangerous secret indeed. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Alright, so, this is the fourth Halo story I'm doing, and a direct sequel to ****Kingdom Come**** and ****Sympathy for the Devil****, both of which are on my profile. I would strongly recommend that you read those two before this. In terms of posting, ****Kingdom Come**** came first, then ****Sympathy for the Devil****. In chronology, it goes ****Sympathy for the Devil****, then ****Kingdom Come****. This is taking place after those two in both categories. Hope you enjoy, and as always, good reviewers get cookies.**

_Chapter 1_

Felicia skipped happily through woods that surrounded her home, and as children usually are, blissfully unaware of her surroundings. Of the bushes. Of the trees. Of the brush. Of the strands of vanilla shedding that sprinkled the ground like leaves in autumn. Part of her enthusiasm was the simple mind of youth. She didn't know to fear that rumbling a bit away or the broken leaves that implied something large and powerful had trampled through the trees. She didn't even think of them.

In an attempt to make the colony as close to Earth as possible, some indigenous species had been brought along and left to breed in the forest. Wolves, boars, deer. They made for good recreational hunting, but mostly they were something to look at, to listen to, so that the colonists wouldn't feel so far from home. Lightyears away. And they never bothered her. So long as she stayed close enough to the town, she was fine. And even as she skipped farther and farther away, she didn't know to start to worry. No matter how far she went, she would always find her way back. Even after the trees gave way to different shapes and unfamiliar branches. Even after she had been walking for what seemed like an hour, her sneakers with so many holes they must have ceased to be sneakers, her clothes drenched with sweat and sticky to her form. Even as the air got cold and the sun began to set. Still she didn't worry, or turn around.

The other part was simple, unabridged joy at one very simple thing: her father was back! He had never told her why he had to leave, he had never discussed the war or even told her about it, but she knew, from the hushed conversations between him and her mother, the tension in the colony, that something was going on. But none of that mattered now, because he was here, and he had sat her down and promised that he would never, ever leave her again. No matter what. He would always be there for her.

The colony on the planet Remus was so small and out of the way that even the Covenant, with their bloody, holy campaign, had never bothered to spare the minimal resources that it would take to glass it. It was so small, possessing maybe a few hundred men, women, and children, maybe three or four settlements sprinkled over the surface, though so far away they never even had contact. No Forerunner artifacts, at least none that were known. No strategic importance, for the UNSC to mount a defense or for the Covenant to use as a stepping stone for a more important planet. It was absolutely nothing.

The Elites were something to get used to. Over eight feet tall, and looking more like a beast than a man, like something out of her story books but crafted with flesh and blood. But she didn't know what their kind had done to her kind, so she didn't know why her mother pulled her to the other side of the street whenever she saw them. But even they were extremely rare. Occasionally, one of their ships would come trudging through space and stop at the colony to resupply. But the Elites kept to themselves, and the humans kept to themselves. No fights or drama. She was always curious about the creatures, the Elites, and the Grunts that sometimes came with them. They were small, funny thing with squeaky voices and silly faces. The hulking things called Hunters, with the squirming at the cracks in their armor plating. The Jackals, with their long beaks and cawky voices. She always wanted to get close, but her mother's grip around her wrist was unyielding.

Felicia skipped, with all the bliss and joy that was reserved for the youthful and ignorant. So happy and ignorant. Right up until she smacked into something unbelievably large and furry.

She stumbled back, shaking her head, whining painfully. It was like hitting a brick wall, which she had done once when she was playing tag; looking behind her to be sure no one was chasing her, she had run right into the side of her house. Well, actually that had hurt more, since at least this thing was covered in a layer of soft, fluffy fur, so the hardness was muffled however slightly. She whined again, rubbing her head and feeling blood dribble out of her nose and down her lips. She opened her eyes, and her vision was overwhelmed by a sea of crème color. It was because it was so massive that she didn't immediately realize what it was, her vision was awash with vanilla.

Even when her vision adjusted, she was baffled. What creature could it possibly be? After she craned her neck to look up and view the massive titan, she hadn't the slightest idea. Not a Hunter. Not an Elite. It looked a lot like an ape actually, a vanilla colored monkey with its simian hands and slouched posture. But what monkey would wear armor? It was armor, mismatched, tattered, dirtied, an ensemble of colors, but armor none the less.

It felt her bump into it, and turned and looked down to see this tiny little handful just staring back. No fear in her youthful eyes. No hatred. Unarmed. And not doing anything hostile. Even the children had been taught hate, and he could respect that, he had seen children as young as ten lift pistols and take aim, but she did nothing of the sort. She just sat there, staring, when she should have been running. He reached a hand down, a hand so big it could have picked up tiny little Felicia in her entirety. She didn't flinch. She didn't scream, even as the warmth embraced her.

---

Margret Trips stayed up that whole night waiting for her daughter. Standing on the porch, then at the window inside when the night grew too cold. Her husband and a few other men had gone out to look for little Felicia. Five of them, her husband and a few others. That had been six hours ago. Four hours ago, the sun had set.

"I'm sure she's fine," Manjula said. She had been here the whole time, staying with Margret, keeping her calm and from the brink of panic.

Margret laughed. "Bart survived the war. We both saw it start and we saw it end and when he got assigned to this little colony, I thought that finally god was smiling upon us. Even if the squid-faces turned on us, why would they bother with us? We would survive."

"I'm sure she's fine," Manjula said again.

"Why wasn't I watching her? I have one job as a mother, and that's to watch my children, and I fucked it up, and now she's out in the middle of the woods. God, how could I be so stupid?"

The door was practically kicked down and with a loud crashing of noise. Margret turned to see her husband smashing through the living room, kicking any tables or chairs out of her way, a tiny bundle of cloth clinging tightly in his arms.

"Oh god," Margret whimpered.

"She's fine," Bart said quickly. Captain Bartholomew Trips, who had survived the Covenant's genocides only to find his daughter, lying face down in the middle of the woods, washed in the cold moon's light. "She's fine," he said again. "Just cold and tired, a couple scrapes and scratches, but she's fine. She's alive. She'll be fine."

Margret took her from him, holding her daughter tight. Seven years old, her little body was still so fragile and soft. And her skin was cold and slick. And there were lashes, ugly open marks on her face and arms. "What do I do?" she asked.

"Get Doctor Paterson," Bart said to Manjula. Margret didn't notice as she left. Felicia coughed loudly. Still holding her close, as if should she let go her daughter would slip away, she sat down on the couch. "She has a fever," Bart continued. "She'll be fine. We'll get the doctor and she'll be fine."

Margret stroked little Felicia, holding her close, gradually peeling the jacket that wrapped her tiny form away. Her hand touched Felicia's cold, wet skin. She tore her soaked clothes, frigid ice clung to the shirt. They would only make her sicker. She tore the clothes away and threw them away. Then lifted her daughter and brought her to the bathroom. A warm bath, that would do her good. Yes, she thought, that would do her good.

Idly the captain picked up Felicia's discarded clothes, and for the first time noticed the few strands of crème colored fur trapped in the ice.

---

"She'll be fine," the good doctor said. "It's not as bad as it certainly could be. Just exposure."

"What is it?" Margret asked.

"Pneumonia," he said. "Psychical trauma to the chest and out in the cold all night. She'll be fine though. Don't let her out of bed, make sure she sleeps, drinks lots and lots of water, give her these pills, one every morning. Call me every three hours and if anything happens, alright? Old school remedies still work the best. It's also the most the colony has anyway."

"Thank you so much." Margret and Doctor Paterson exchanged brief embraces. They went separate ways, Margret to the master bedroom where little Felicia was snuggling up in the king sized bed, and the doctor went down the stairs to the living room.

"You really think it's a Brute?"

Trips held up a small, zip lock bag of fur. "Maybe not. I mean, maybe Felicia found a little bunny rabbit. White fur, that doesn't have to mean a Brute. Maybe she picked up a rabbit. Maybe she petted a wolf. We don't have any real evidence that there are any Brutes."

"But you think it's a Brute, don't you?"

Trips held his head. "I'm terrified it's a Brute. I really, really am."

"Ever the pessimist."

"The Alliance has been pushing them out of the inner sectors. They are pushing them into us. And this planet, so small, they could hid right under our noses. What are we going to do if there's a whole pack, just waiting outside our vision?"

"You found a strand of fur. Come on, that doesn't mean the entire Brute population is living in our forests. I'll contact the Navy, see if they can send some personnel. We can do a sweep."

"We are all soldiers here," Bart said. "And I would rather not have the Elites here unless necessary. All the units are integrated now."

"There _is_ the possibly a pack of Brutes is living just outside our town. I'd say that is necessary. I'm calling it in Bart. I know your feelings about the Elites, but think of everyone here. We need them."

The captain nodded.

"Go be with your daughter."

The captain nodded again.

**Ugh, i hate first chapters. Things pick up next chapter, lot of old favorites will be coming in.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Alright, i just posted this chapter thee times trying to figure out what a good length is. I'm keeping it at this. As much as i would like it to be longer, i don't want it to be too long.**

_Chapter 2_

With some amusement, Nicole Kimber's focus shifted from the photograph she always carried to Orff, as he tried in vain to convince the leader of this little colony to hold his forces back. It was kind of cute, an 8'6" alien begging and pleading with a human. Trips, that was the human's name. Captain Bartholomew Trips. A good man, all ready to go out into the woods and hunt the Brutes down. Indeed, in the cycle or so it took for them to receive the orders and reach this colony, the captain had organized a substantial force. All them, dressed in the body armor they had hoped they would never have to wear again. Off to fight the enemy they thought long dead.

"You be good," she said to the photo, before returning it to its place in the breast pocket of her armor, and went off to stand by her commanding officer.

She supposed she should have hated Orff, and indeed there should have been tension between them at first. Often outright hostility and disgust. But Lord Hood and the Arbiter were wise to bring their respective species together, rather than keep them apart. The best soldiers at first, the ones dedicated to duty that could look past the old hates and wounds. Then the main armies: ships composed of joint crews, Sangheili squads led by humans, human squads led by Sangheili, though those were still few and far between. The new generation were being trained together, cooperative military schools. Somewhere down the line, civilians would be integrated, but that was still a long ways off.

There were still walls between them. Sangheili and humans talked at each other, not to, as was painfully clear by Orff's present debate, but there was progress, just that they could talk at all. She had even heard rumors that humans had graced Sanghelios with their footsteps, but she wasn't sure if that was true. It seemed doubtful in fact, who would be granted such an honor? But just that it was believable enough to become a rumor was something. And the mutual threat of the Jiralhanae, that helped a great deal. So long as their aim was on the pirate apes, they wouldn't turn to each other.

She supposed she should hate Orff. She should hate all the Sangheili for what they had done. And she had. She had been disgusted when Lord Hood partnered her with Orff. Hadn't she done enough? Hadn't she served the cause? And all she wanted was to retire. Forgetting proper protocol, she had screamed, biting and snapping like a wounded beast. She had torn apart his office before she finally calmed down, and he had sat her down and very calm, in his fatherly way, explained, "Think how it will look, you and he? I know it's hard, but please, for the good of the Alliance. You're the only one I can trust with something like this."

She shifted nervously from foot to foot as Orff continued to talk. He growled lowly, a sound that vibrated out of the back of his throat. "Captain, I ask you humbly. Allow the lieutenant and I to hunt down the Jiralhanae ourselves."

"With respect, major, we are all soldiers and this is our colony. It is our responsibility to defend it." Dressed in his spiffy little combat armor with his face covered by the helmet, he stood so firm against Orff, who could rather easily rip him to pieces. "Radios keep dying, we were lucky just to get even the one message out. We can't even reach the other settlements, for all we know we are the only ones left. We need to take care of this problem before anything else happens."

"Captain, this is hardly a modern colony. From what the others have told me, you regularly lose contact with your peers and superiors. There is no reason to suspect that your brothers have fallen victim to the Jiralhanae."

"There is a pack of Brutes in the forest. For all we know, they are planning an attack as we sit here and talk." He turned to leave.

Orff stopped him with a tight grip on his shoulder.

"Let go of me, major."

Kimber put a hand on the Sangheili's shoulder. Orff released him. "Please understand, I make no assumptions about your abilities. I have had experience with your ODST brigades, I know of you and yours are capable of. But there is a reason why your government saw fit to send the lieutenant and myself."

"Yes, sending a lieutenant and a major. I can see how dedicated they are to our survival." He sighed. "We have all fought the Covenant. These aren't the first Brutes we have taken down. We know the routine."

"You don't understand. To live in the Covenant, the Jiralhanae had to deaden their instincts. They had to civilize. They had to control themselves. What you are dealing with now are creatures unrestrained. The pack is going to kill you."

"But you feel that you will be able to remove this threat?"

"I have had intimacy with the Jiralhanae that you are lacking. I know how they think. I know how they act. Better I gauge their strength than you."

"Major, I thank you for the offer, but it is our responsibility to deal with our own." He thought to himself. "I'm sorry major, but I will not put this colony in your hands. Nor will I give command of any of my men to you. Since the treaty, you and yours have done nothing that warrants such fears, but the things you did before that."

Orff exhaled loudly.

"I'm sorry major, but I can't do it. They tried to kill my daughter, maybe I'm being a bit impulsive, but that's my right." He turned and walked away. "I've a force of fifty strong," he said, over his shoulder. "We'll be fine."

Orff just growled.

---

Captain Trips and his platoon didn't return the following day. Or the next. There were hushed whispers, and talk of organizing another search party. Still, the radios were dead. Orff had brought his own equipment, but they couldn't raise any of the other colonies, so naturally everyone began to fear the worse. These were noble humans, brave and unwilling to abandon their lost. But they were also fools. And they would blindly march into the Jiralhanae's mouth given the chance.

Major Adam Jones was the senior officer of the colony, and he would have been lost with Captain Trips had he gone with them. He had wanted to, that was evident in his longing gaze as he saw his comrades off, but he had been crippled during the war. A slow, pained waddle in his every step, there was no way he could track in a forest. So he stayed behind, and continued keeping this little town together.

"I'll be taking one of the Warthogs," Orff said.

Jones held his head in his hand. "We survived you, we survived the Brutes, we survived the Flood, now this. Trips did, he survived everything. He went through the portal. He came back. He was so happy when he got posted all the way out here."

"You have protocol for an act of invasion, correct?"

"Yes, for the Flood, for Brutes, and for Elites."

"Prepare yourselves. I don't know how many Jiralhanae we are dealing with. And your captain has more than likely pissed them off enough they may decide to retaliate."

"If you had to guess, what are they numbers."

"I don't see how that is important, as you won't be engaging."

"You're the expert, right? You're the go to squid-face when we have to deal with Bravo Kilos. Make an educated guess to what we are dealing with."

"One, two or three," Orff said. "If they had the numbers they would have slaughtered this colony by now, and taken this planet for their own. A large pack has nothing to fear from you. They don't have the numbers, so it's their hope to hide under your noses."

"Could three Brutes take out fifty Helljumpers?"

"The captain was fanning out his forces to cover forests. A single Jiralhanae would only have to engage a few at a time, nip at the herd until there were none left. He had no idea what he was dealing with."

"Take the Warthog," Jones said. "Kill every Brute you find." Jones lifted his hand to above his eye in a human's salute. Orff did the same, he had long grown accustomed to this human gesture. "God watch over you."

Orff turned and left the town hall that had so quickly been converted to a war room of sort. All the children were held there, all the rations. The town was already in the process of fortification: patrols, sharpshooters on the roof, vehicles patrolling the streets. He proceeded silently to the Warthog parked outside, Lieutenant Kimber waiting patiently in the passenger seat. She didn't hear him, her focus was on a photograph she was holding tightly. She always said she loved the ancient medium. He craned his neck over her shoulder, his breath alerting her to his presence. "I thought you only had one son," he said.

She still jumped at his voice, and returned the picture to her breast pocket quickly. "It's a long story. Could we just get this done with?"

"Eager to go hunting?"

"One mission, a month on leave. That's the deal when I signed up for this."

Orff snorted, climbing into the driver's side. He didn't mind driving human vehicles, in fact he rather enjoyed the ride of the Warthog. It was sturdy and solid, while his kind's vehicles tended to glide and float a little too much. "If indeed we are dealing with a Jiralhanae, you are not to engage directly."

"I know." She reached behind her seat, taking up her sniper rifle.


	3. Chapter 3

**Boy, thank god I didn't combine this with chapter 2 and post it last week. I added one or two sentences here and there, but I like the flow of it better. And if anyone can come up with a better summary, i suck at making them.**

_Chapter 3_

"Is it true that if you shoot an Unggoy in the head, confetti will come out?"

Orff took his eyes off the road and looked at her. "What?"

"It was a rumor in basic. If you shoot an Unggoy in the head, confetti comes out. I used to know an Unggoy, worked with him pretty close, but the chance to shoot him never came up."

Lieutenant Kimber wore modified ODST armor, carefully crafted to her every curve and unique size, at Orff insistence. He would have liked the armor to boast a personal shield, but human scientists couldn't work it in. Instead he had given her a Kig-yar Point Defense Gauntlet, though he noticed she wasn't carrying it at the moment. Perhaps because it wouldn't do her much good when dealing with a Jiralhanae at close range. "Then, when the confetti comes out, little kids cheer." He couldn't see her face under the reflective sheen of her helmet's mask, but he assumed she was joking.

"We have a similar rumor. Cut open a human, and miniature versions pop out. I have found it to be true on occasion."

Even under the helmet, he could see her cringe and shiver. "You're sick," she snapped. "You're a monster."

She thought what came next was a Sangheili's chuckle. "We're all monsters." His face grew stern. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you, do not underestimate the Jiralhanae."

"I have had intimacy with them too." She looked over her rifle for any superficial imperfection. "These work quite well."

"It takes over a second to eject the spent shell from that rifle. Have you any idea what a Jiralhanae can do in less than a second? Why not use one of our rifles? Less recoil, no bulky ammunition, faster shots."

"Why don't you use one of our SMGs instead of that Plasma rifle? Not all Jiralhanae use shields, and our bullets work best on flesh. You use your weapons and I use mine."

Perhaps the issue would have been pressed further (they had spent entire slipspace jump discussing the pros and cons of Sangheili's weaponry versus human's) but they came upon the smoldering wreckage of a Warthog, and their vehicle pulled to a stop. Orff drew one of the rifles clipped to his thigh and climbed out of his seat. Kimber set her own rifle down and climbed to the back of the jeep, mounting the turret and swaying her aim left and right.

"They hit a buried trip mine. No bodies, so they must have all survived." A finger traced the footprints in the soil. "Stay on the turret. And watch for additional traps."

"Yes sir," she said.

"Don't call me sir, you sound like an Unggoy."

"Sure thing squid-face."

He gave a low growl at her, but climbed back into the vehicle, starting off.

There were signs. Crudely crafted banners of stretched animal skin. Most written in a Covenant language, or more precisely a Jiralhanae language. Kimber didn't bother with wondering how Orff was able to read it, but he offered, often disturbing, translations. As they trudged along deeper, a few of the signs struggled to read legible English.

"Turn back," she read. "I'm amazed they can spell."

"Don't underestimate them," Orff said sharply. The Warthog was chugging along at a snail's pace. It was dangerous to stay stagnant, but danger as well to speed along. She knew better than to question the major's decision. But she was nervous.

"What are Jiralhanae doing out here? Only a few, on a colony, in the middle of nowhere?"

"Hiding. Hoping to pass under our aim. There is no telling how long they have been out here. Possibly since the war ended. Any straggler who weren't on the Ark, what are they to do but run and hope to reach their home planet before its glassed. To spend their last moments at peace, with their kin, in their land? I imagine they feel as you did during the war. Knowing that every day could be their last, faced with an impossible adversary."

It had been two years since the Covenant dissolved, since the humans and Sangheili entered a strained truce, since the Jiralhanae tasted ultimate defeat and the hunt for their remnants began.

"Oh god," Kimber muttered, looking away.

Strung up in a rough crucifix was one of the soldiers who had braved these woods, who it was, was impossible to tell, given the damage to the face and body: skin peeled and scratched and clawed, black clothes long stripped away. It was impossible to tell if this had been a man or a woman, though by the narrowness of the thighs, she would guess the latter. "Turn back," said a crudely done sign in crimson ink, pinned to the corpse with a combat knife. "Why would he do this? Why wouldn't he just stay hidden?"

"He is trying to scare us, is he succeeding?" Orff asked.

Kimber swallowed. "I've seen worse."

"We will need the element of surprise. We must leave the vehicle. Chances are they have already heard the engine."

Kimber looked down at her rifle, before climbing out and securing it to her back. Orff had to muffle a laugh, the weapon was almost as long as she was. She checked over her service pistol, a .22 caliber instead of the standard magnum. Easier to handle, besides, she hoped to never get close enough to have to use it. More than likely, she would turn the weapon on herself before anyone else. She knew what Jiralhanae did with prisoners. As she passed, she yanked the dog tags from around the woman's neck. Her name was Jessica Colbert.

They walked a long time. Their only conversation was pointing out a trap so they other wouldn't fall victim: a large hole covered by a thin spread of leaves, snares, trip mines, a bed of protruding spikes.

"Gorillas using guerilla tactics, great. It's like they're expecting us," Kimber said.

"They knew they would eventually be discovered. They have had plenty of time to prepare. They know they are dead, now they just hope to take as many down with them. That makes them dangerous."

She cringed as they passed another body, this one missing most of the meat from the legs. He was propped up against a tree, sitting, almost as if he were sleeping. She bent, pulling the dog tags from the neck and putting them in her pocket. David Zanzibar. Another was almost perfectly preserved: bits of flesh take from the scavenger birds, but no large damage. He was strung up by a noose around the neck, but cause of death wasn't clear. Kimber tried to reach him, to cut him down, but the Sangheili explained they were wasting time with such an endeavor, and herded her along. She pushed against him. "At least his tags so they'll have something bury."

Orff growled, before taking her around the waist and hoisting her up. He positioned the other hand under her feet and extended her lithe form up until she was eye level with the lynched body, her bending and holding his long fingers for stability. "I'm going to kill you," she shouted down, as she tried to stand up. Quickly she undid the dog tags and stuffed them into her pocket. Playfully, or perhaps a cruel method of reminding her of her size, he threw her into the air. She managed to stifle a scream as she twisted, and plummeted down, caught gently in Orff's arms. She slapped him as hard as she could across the mandibles. He laughed again, setting her down.

"If I don't make it," she started. "Could you do me a favor?"

"You'll make it."

"Orff, please, can you do me a favor?"

She was such a small thing. When first he had been partnered with her, he had been disgusted and baffled by her physical traits. Was she sickly, or still a youth? And indeed, on the missions, he always made sure that she stayed out of direct combat. But she had a keen mind that he had grown to respect, and a dedication to duty that was most appealing. And there were times when her size was quite useful. "Of course."

"I want you to punch Lord Hood in the gut as hard as you can. I shouldn't be doing this bullshit."

"I will not allow any harm to come to you, I promise. Besides, you can handle yourself. You're-"

Words were cut short as Kimber dove forward and caught Orff at the knees. If she tried to ram into him, he wouldn't even budge, but her intimacy with his kind had afforded her a knowledge of his weaknesses. A firm fist to just the right part of their leg and they would tumble to the ground. It helped his focus wasn't on her. He fell to the ground as half a dozen orange glowing spikes screamed through the air. Orff twisted on the ground, spraying plasma but the crème colored Jiralhanae recoiled behind a tree. He popped out just long enough to throw a spike grenade. Kimber hadn't recovered, and the grenade caught the side of her helmet. In a panic, she yanked the helmet off and threw it aside, lifting her armored arms in front of her face. The spikes bit at her skin. She shook the feeling back into her arms.

Orff was struggling with the Jiralhanae. He cracked his Plasma rifle across the Jiralhanae's jaw. The Jiralhanae brought a knee into Orff's armored gut. Simultaneously, they leaned their head back and thrust forward. They both stumbled back, growling, trying to shake the stars from their vision.

Kimber couldn't risk shooting: a missed shot or even over penetration. She just couldn't risk hurting Orff. Instead she hoisted her rifle up and charged forward, and smashed it across the Jiralhanae's back. He must have felt her attack, because he did turn and swung his Spiker. The blade cut through the rifle's with no difficulty, removing most of the barrel, but it would still shoot, and she poked the shortened muzzle up to his chest. Then she felt the Spiker's blade under her throat. Orff brought one of his rifle to the Jiralhanae, and the Jiralhanae met him with a second Spiker, clipped off his belt.

Kimber was terrified: the cold steel of the bayonet under her chin and the oblivion of the muzzle filling her vision. The finger wrapped around her rifle's trigger burned and itched. Orff was the picture of calm. In fact, by how his head cocked, it was as if he were in deep thought, pondering some strange, illogical thing known only to Sangheili. Eventually, he bent his arm at a ninety degree angle, the Jiralhanae did the same.

"I apologize for my hostility brother, I did not recognize you. Sister, please lower your weapon."

She moved her eyes to look at him, too afraid to move her head. "Our orders are to eliminate the Jiralhanae. The Jiralhanae is presently holding a Spiker to my head."

Orff second Plasma rifle moved to her. "Lower the weapon."

They both heard the cocking of an additional gun, and followed the sound to a miniature Jiralhanae, holding a shotgun with the barrel shortened.

Her free hand found her side arm and she swayed aim between Orff and the new Jiralhanae. "You know the policy." She lifted her chin to the sky as the blade traced her skin. She felt it open a wound, and slickness trace down her chest.

"Brother, lower you weapon, and please tell the youth to do the same. Sister, how much damage do you think that a .22 could do to me? Lower your weapon, now. You may remain armed, but this is not the time to fight."

It somehow surprised her that the Jiralhanae was first to drop his aim. He batted the rifle away before turning, and barking at the youth. Sometime later, she would learn the youth's name, Ameday, but for now he was just another hostile, and her aim passed between them. "Sister," Orff said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Please, you have to trust me in this matter."


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

"We've begun dividing the packs in the hopes of slipping through your dragnets. Before we went our ways, Chieftain Thantus was still commanding the _Red of Nail_. Cascus and Vanus," the Jiralhanae paused, thinking hard, "they both took a frigate and as many Loyalists as they could carry. Cascus pirated the _Endless Blade_ from you Sangheili. Vanus still had the _Laughing in the Darkness_. Have you heard anything about them?"

The Jiralhanae was Captain Lazarus. Inside the cave that served as his home, a roaring fire separated her form the three aliens, Kimber was terrified to say the least. Her arm was throbbing. She had done what she could to remove the spikes and mend the wounds, but lacking pain killers or proper bandages, she just had to grit her teeth and hope she didn't lose too much blood. The shortening of her rifle was actually a blessing, it would be easier to wield now, and a 14.5x114mm round would still do some serious damage to a Jiralhanae if she managed to get the shot off, but how she would love to be at a safe distance. She could hope to snatch the shotgun away from the youth. It would be useful.

Orff shook his head, almost remorsefully.

"I fear the worst. You don't take prisoners, after all."

"Did you offer mercy to the humans you captured. Or our Council as Tartarus tore through them?" Orff asked.

Lazarus snorted. "You are here to kill me?"

"We have our orders."

"And Ameday?"

Orff clicked his mandibles. "We have our orders."

Lazarus shook his shaggy head. Laughter rolled like thunder. "We were so close to the Great Journey, to godhood, to the reward of our faith. And now, look how far we have fallen. From masters to mongrels by the doings of a heretic and his demon. By our mortal enemies and little beasts that should serve as meat."

Kimber cringed.

"If this is my day to die, please, just tell your superiors that I and I alone inhabited these forests."

Orff glared at Kimber, turned back to the Jiralhanae, and nodded. "I understand. If this is my day to die, offer my lieutenant passage back to the colony."

Lazarus nodded, standing and gripping his Spiker. He spent a moment or two just standing there, at his full height, reminding Orff what he was dealing with. "Let's begin."

When the Covenant was whole and the humans were still the enemy, Orff's relationship with the Jiralhanae was better than most of his kind. Any of his kind in fact. He was an arbiter between the Council and the Chieftains. Tense work, each side despised him for his association, but it was what was ordered of him. To be specific, his relationship with Lazarus' pack, the pack led by the Chieftain Thantus, was quite cordial. He had prayed with them before meals, he had learned of their culture and customs. He had sparred extensively with Lazarus, enough that he had learned his present opponent's tells.

By the time the Flood attacked, he had managed to disarm him of one of the Spikers, only receiving a very large gash across the forearm in the process, the blade fine enough to slice neatly through the armor and skin suit, and two spikes embedded in his chest plate.

Kimber watched, nervously, a familiar feeling of helplessness chilling her spine. Fearful that the Jiralhanae would kill Orff and then turn to her. The image of her fellow marines strung up in crude warnings. Ameday nudged her with his shotgun for no other reason that to remind her he could. Even still just a child, he towered over her, but given her unimpressive height, it was something that she got used to. She wondered if he could talk. She had a translator in her ear, but he hadn't done much save growl and grunt.

There was a roar that didn't belong to either of the combatants, followed by a swollen, gangrenous mass of flesh plummeting to the ground a few feet from Orff and Lazarus. For a moment, they stopped their struggles, both trying to comprehend what the revolting monster that was slobbering towards them could be. "Flood," they said in unison, breaking the embrace and standing at the ready.

The orange spikes glowed brilliantly against the sickly flesh as Lazarus pulled his Spiker back and emptied the clip. When it was done, he leapt forward and hacked into the sickly flesh. As a matter of honor, Orff had refrained from using his sword, but now it ignited in his hand and plunged deep into the Flood's center. Lifting his blade, he cut the Flood open, then swung down, surgically removing protruding limbs and chunks of flesh. Lazarus clipped an incendiary grenade off his belt, kicked the gangrenous form away, and dropped the flames upon the still quivering flesh.

There was fear of approaching, but Kimber had to make sure, and pushed between the two giants to the smoldering flesh. "Flood?" she asked. "There are supposed to be dead."

"We must get back to your colony," Orff said quickly. "Warn them of this."

Lazarus took his time, reloading his Spiker and calmly retrieving his second one, inspecting it for damage.

"You know the dangers of the Flood," Orff said, looking to him.

"It infects Jiralhanae and Sangheili alike."

"I cannot say that your aid will grant you amnesty, but on my father's blood, I will do everything I can to see you and your son's safety."

Lazarus tucked his weapons on his belt. His voice was low and calm. "Ameday is too young to have ever lifted a hammer to you. You can parade my corpse around your homeworld for all I care, but you let him live. You give him passage to Dosiac, so just once he may see his home. Promise me that."

"I will do everything I can."

"Promise me brother."

Orff nodded. "I promise."

They made their way back to the Warthog quickly. Kimber was overjoyed it hadn't been destroyed. Why they hadn't come across any additional Flood was a burning question, but assumingly, the one that had stumbled upon them had just wandered so far. Stupid creatures in their infancy, with a simple desire to consume. There was something reassuring about that, that they were still weak and foolish, perhaps this problem could be dealt with quickly. She was so focused on the Flood, she didn't even think about the problem of seating arrangement.

The Warthog was a newer model, designed after the treaty, reinforced to compensate the substantial weight of a trio of Sangheili. The frame still whined loudly when Ameday was ordered into the passenger seat and Lazarus climbed into the back, which left Kimber in a strange position, wondering where she should sit. She watched as Lazarus took firm hold of the turret and yanked it off, throwing it aside. "Oh no," she muttered, just as something firm took her by the shoulder. "Major?" she asked.

"There is nothing about this colony I should know about?"

"What do you mean?"

Orff lowered so low she was eye level with his mandibles, opening and closing each time he breathed, the humid air blowing over her face. She cringed a little, blinking each time; at least Orff did care about hygiene. "That's really impolite." She was sure he was doing it just to annoy her.

There was a feral scream. What had most likely once been a man stumbled and hissed towards the jeep, but was quickly shot down by Orff's Plasma rifle. Lazarus climbed off, pushing Orff aside and taking Kimber by the chest, so suddenly she barely had a chance to scream. "You can play with your human later," he growled. He carried her roughly, into the back of the jeep, throwing her aside and climbing in after. For once in her life, she was grateful for her small size. Even with how massive the Jiralhanae may have been, she found room, though she was admittedly close to his fur, sinking into the dense puffiness. The musky scent was overwhelming, as was the heat he excreted, so much so she started to sweat. So close, he could kill her with the slightest flick of his elbow. But so long as Orff was here, she did trust that she was in no real danger, and tried to relax. Even when the Jiralhanae yawned sleepily, his mouth opening large enough to swallow her whole, flicks of saliva dripping over his long fangs. Even when, just to be cruel, he said, "You look uncomfortable," and he took her around the ribs. She yelped when she first felt his hand, but Orff didn't seem to notice, focus solely on the road ahead. Lazarus smiled, and pulled her close, planting her down rather forcefully in his lap. His lap! She shivered as his hand found her back and pulled her close. He yawned again, opening his mouth so wide she could probably crawl inside. It was when he squeezed her close to the disassembled and heavily damaged armor, the coldness of it burning her skin, she started to resist. How she wished she still had her helmet to protect her.

"Stop," she growled, trying to push away, but he was larger and much, much stronger. A single hand at her back, and both her arms and legs couldn't budge. The moment her strength waned, she collided hard with his armor, her jaw cracking against the breast plate. Her teeth chattered. Then, slowly, he began stroking her back, petting her like she would a housecat. One finger tracing the tenseness of her muscles, between her shoulder blades and all the way down to her rump, curving under her flank, then rising and starting the process anew. She gritted her teeth tighter than when the spike bit into her arm. That was just pain, this was…something not easily put into words. She tried to struggled away, but he just put a finger at her back and kept her close until she tired herself out.

After sharing a transport ship ride with a duo of Mgalekgolo, listening to the squirming of the worms under the metallic armor and the strange murmurs that might have been their talking, there should have been no level of intimacy that could bother her. But this did. The Mgalekgolo, the Elites, they may have thought her their inferior, but this was something else. And his cruel laughter rolled like thunder.

Fine, she thought. He wanted to humiliate her. He wanted to torture her. Instead, she reached around his massive chest to his side and began fiddling with the armor where it was bound. It was old and badly damaged, held together at the joints with what she assumed was the Jiralhanae's equivalent of duct tape. Lazarus began to wonder what she was doing, and gave her more leverage so he could try and see what her tiny hands where up to. Finally she undid the binding, and managed to pull the chest plate off. The Jiralhanae was so baffled that she had managed to do this, he didn't immediately slap her away. She managed to set the armor aside. "Stop," he growled, lifting a hand, but catching himself after looking to Orff. She leaned in close to his chest, ruffling up the thick, coarse, dirty fur and putting her cheek against it, listening to his heartbeat. She cuddled to him like an affectionate kitten, rubbing her cheek against the dense fur. She closed her eyes as if lost in a content trance. She shifted onto her back and put her head down, acting like he was nothing but a large, warm bed, but she was crying inside. It was horrible, the images of those fallen colonists who came to slay this monster kept flashing in her mind, the families that they left behind. She should have put her pistol in the Jiralhanae's mouth and pulled the trigger as many times as it took. But she couldn't kill him now, this was the most she could do.

Now he was the one who was humiliated, acting as a human's bedding. He shifted uncomfortably, even looked to Orff as if he could save him. When he tried to bat her away, she took handfuls of his fur and stayed close, mocking his low growls, calling them adorable. "You're so fluffy," she teased. "Your pelts fetch a high price on the market back on Earth. Coats, blankets, you name it, you are it. I mean, after Truth left Earth, there were all these bodies. And some entrepreneur rounded em all up."

How he shivered and growled. It was so much fun to torture him so, him knowing he couldn't do a thing against her because of Orff. He took her around the waist and held her at arms length, as if she were some cancerous thing. He snarled and growled but she just stared back, mocking him, silently daring him to try something. "Don't worry, we'll keep a few of you alive for breeding purposes. Can't let such a lucrative market dry up. That's probably what we will do with your pup."

"Nicole," Orff said sharply. "Lazarus, put her down."

She had to sit on his leg, her spine against his foot. She just stared at him, and he stared back.

The remaining soldiers of the colony, mostly women but a few men, too young or old to join in the hunt, came forth to meet him. Nearly this entire colony was retired or discharged soldiers, a fact that Orff thought nothing of prior, but now it added fuel to his suspicions. All of them carrying their little assault rifles. All now aiming at the two Jiralhanae.

"Lower your weapons," Orff growled. He stalked forward and shoved one of the humans back. He was caught by his comrades. "Lower your weapons now."

Technically, Major Jones was the senior officer of the colony, and he certainly would have been lost with Captain Trips had he not been rendered crippled during the war. A slow, pained waddle in his every step, there was no way he could track in a forest. "What is that ape doing here?"

"The two Jiralhanae are under my protection. We have more important matters at hand."

"That Brute-"

"The Flood has returned," Orff said sharply.

Major Jones had been there on Earth, fighting the Covenant like a good little soldier when the sky opened up, and a plague descended to the lands. He had seen an entire city decimated in the name of quarantine. Maybe he had even seen friends devoured by the plague.

"Tell your men to lower their weapons," Orff said slowly. "Or I will kill every one of them. I value that Jiralhanae more than I value you."


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5_

Orff trusted Kimber to keep the tension between the soldiers and the Jiralhanae in check. He had other things to worry about.

Major Jones locked his door and drew his blinds, as if some prying eyes may leer inside and learn of the dark knowledge. He spoke in a whisper as if someone passing may overhear. "You are sure it was the Flood?"

"Yes sir, I am sure it was the Flood."

"Where could they come from? They were defeated on the Ark? Could some of them have survived? How could they get here? Does the Brute have something to do with it?"

"Lazarus had nothing to do with the Flood."

"Then what, major?"

"I was hoping you could tell me."

Jones took a breath. "I don't know what you're talking about?"

"You are lying, I can smell it. I know that during the war, you humans entertained the idea of using Flood as a weapon. I understand the severity of our bloody campaign, and how you would entertain any plot just to see another sunset. My Council will understand as well. All crimes will be forgiven. I just need to know what we are dealing with."

Jones moved to his desk. "It was considered a step too far, even in a war such as that, not to mention how dangerous the Flood has proven. Even if it destroyed you, it would eventually come back to us. We decided it would be a fail-deadly option. We would have our revenge from beyond the grave."

"But now with the Alliance, you still kept the spores?"

Jones snapped. "You spent three decades eradicating us. Suppose those habits came back? We wanted some insurance."

"Now your species, and mine, and the Jiralhanae, and every other creature in the galaxy stand in the path of destruction because of your stupidity. I would execute you now but I will need you. How many know of the Flood?"

"No one. Only me. That's why I was posted at this colony."

"Keep it that way. Where is the laboratory?"

Jones took a small electronic map out of his desk. He pointed to a spot on the hologram, deep in the woods. So deep he doubted any of the colonists would ever hike in. "We have to evacuate this colony."

"No, one Flood stowaway is all it takes. One single spore can devour a species."

"The Flood haven't reached us. We mobilize quickly while you contact your fleets to aid with the evacuation, then we have this planet glassed. There are civilians here, children, and I will not allow them to fall to the Flood's hand, or yours."

An act of defiance that should have been returned with force. Orff was unfamiliar with human ranking system, he wasn't sure which major was higher, but he was larger and stronger and could easily break this man in half. But Orff respected this human, and let it slide. He activated the map and examined where the base was designated. Quite far, it would be some times before the Flood preyed upon the colony. "Nuclear reactors?"

It took Jones a moment to understand, but then said, "Yes."

"The Flood will be upon you shortly. You have much to do if you hope for any of your brood to live. I will try to buy you all the time that I can."

"Major," he said quickly, before the Sangheili could leave. "There is no way you could get clear of the meltdown."

Orff growled, continuing on his way.

---

Orff trusted Kimber to keep the tensions at bay. The soldiers, at the very least, respected her rank. Still, the first thing she had done is order every soldier to keep a twenty yard distance between them and the Jiralhanae and not engage under any circumstances. They had happily obliged, but still kept their rifles trained. Most were still youths, having enlisted too late to really experience combat, or engaged one of the Covenant's forces. The few others were old soldiers. They were the most dangerous ones.

Kimber had long gotten used to the cold, metallic lump in her ear that was a translator. Instantly, any of the registered human or Covenant languages would be translated so she could understand, particularly useful given her position. Though Orff could speak English relatively well, most other Sangheili she came into contact with could not, or perhaps would not. Not to mention the Unggoy, the Mgalekgolo, the Kig-yar. Her head would explode if she had to learn what every caw, grumble and squeal meant.

"We have a term in our language," she said, "its 'barbarian'. It comes from the Greeks. See, when the Greeks encountered foreigners, they couldn't understand what they said. All the Greeks heard was 'bar bar bar,' so they called them barbarians."

Lazarus snorted, not looking at her. He was staring at the humans a distance away.

The moment she had first heard an Unggoy talk was when she started to lose her taste for killing. If they squealed and whined, she could excuse them as something less than beasts. But hearing them cry and beg for mercy. That changed something deep inside her. This Jiralhanae could talk. He had a son. How she wished she could go back to the old days when all Sangheili could say was "wort, wort, wort." It was so much easier. She wasn't sure if such things would have the same effect on a Jiralhanae, but what was the harm in trying? And this Jiralhanae was Orff's brother, she wasn't sure if that made him her brother, but she had to make friends. After a deep breath, she started.

"I always wondered why Orff was still a major," she started. "It's you, isn't it?"

"Before they claimed heresy, Orff worked with my pack extensively. Orders from his Council, but still such intimacy was frowned upon. They were afraid that we would corrupt him. No matter the casualties we inflicted, he was forbidden to advance." Lazarus smiled, a disturbing, disgusting act for such a creature. "The number of causalities we inflicted together. It was beautiful to see him work. How he could carve through your ranks. Such precision, such delicacy."

"Never thought Orff and I would have such a thing in common. I would love to be a colonel, I really should after all the shit I've done, but they don't want me getting too high. They're afraid Orff has corrupted me. Besides, I'm sure I'm not the only one to experience loss. Care to learn how many of you monkeys Orff has killed since the alliance was formed?"

"I killed his, and he killed mine. They are not his brothers, nor are those mine. You are not my sister, and should I choose, you'll make a fine meal."

Kimber was happy that she was wearing a new helmet. Under the shining, polished, reflective sheen, he couldn't see her cringe when he heard the gurgling of his stomach, muffled by the layer of fur and muscle. She took out a canteen and popped off the top. "Lauerd king, Waeseil?" she asked, offering it to him.

That caught the Jiralhanae's attention.

"The first time Lord Hood met with the Arbiter to discuss cementing the treaty, he offered him a drink and said, 'Lauerd king, Waeseil'. He told the Arbiter to respond, 'Drincheil'. The lord doesn't like Sangheili, but he does respect them. Lauerd king, Waeseil?" she asked again.

When the Jiralhanae took the canteen, he took her hand with it and lifted her off the ground, higher and higher until they were eye level. He shook her a bit, and her hand slipped free. She fell onto the Warthog's hood. Lazarus sniffed at the water, sampled it and finding nothing wrong, gave it to his son, who quickly quenched his own parched throat.

"You're chieftain was Thantus?" By his expression, Kimber took it was, and under her visor, she smiled. Playfully, she climbed up onto the hood of the Jeep, stood on her toes and lifted her hands as high over her head as she could stretch. "About this high, white fur, pissed off and kind of brooding all the time, though what he went through, I can't really blame him." Still standing on the hood of the jeep so they were relatively eye level, "He was a good man."

Not Brute, not Jiralhanae. Just man.

Lazarus grabbed both her legs with one hand and pulled them out from under her, so she smacked against the hood. His hand found her chest and kept her pinned. These ridiculous acts of dominance were quite common amongst the Sangheili, she knew not to struggle or fight and just allow him to decide she wasn't a threat. He leaned close, her vision eclipsed by teeth and his black, rubbery lips and the overwhelming scent of fur and his breath. And she was making progress with him. He hadn't killed her, instead opting for this painful, but not fatal action. "Never mention my chieftain," he warned.

She heard the three round burst of a battle rifle. Lazarus flinched and growled above her, and she remembered that he hadn't put his armor back on. He pulled the Spiker from his belt and fired. She couldn't see past the vastness of crème fur, but she heard a scream. Then Lazarus took her around the waist and held her up, and she felt the familiar pressure of the Spiker's blade at her throat. The men, with their rifles ready, stood there, trying to get a clear shot. One was on the ground, three orange spikes in the meat of his shoulder, screaming and crying as a second soldier bent over him, trying to keep him still.

"Stand down," Jones said, storming towards them. The wounded soldier with the Spikes in his shoulder cringed and heaved once, then lay still. The soldier who had been tending to him stood up and lifted his battle rifle to Lazarus, only to be swiftly disarmed by the human major.

"Sir," one of the soldiers said. "The Brute was attacking the lieutenant."

"I don't give a fuck," Jones screamed. "I gave you orders not to engage the Brute. I don't care if the Brute was forcing Nicole to give him a blow job, you do not engage. O'Brian disobeyed his orders and he suffered for it. Start organizing the colony, the Flood will be upon us any minute."

The soldiers muttered and cursed under their breath, but turned and spread out through the town.

"Did you have to kill him?" Jones demanded, looking up at the Jiralhanae, who gave an half-hearted shrug. He screamed and stormed around, finally taking a breath and calming down.

"Ameday," Orff said. "You will go with this human. He will take you off planet to someplace safe."

Lazarus growled, and the youth took a step to his father.

"Brother, please, this entire planet will be destroyed, whether by the Flood or bombardment. And the operation we will be performing will not be safe. I promise, your son will survive through this day."

"I just killed a human. Do you think they are smart enough to accept that loss? Do you think they won't seek vengeance?"

Jones spoke next. "I swear on the life of my children, the youth will not be brought to harm. He'll be with me at all times and he will be on my Pelican out." He turned directly to the youth. "As long as you don't try anything, I swear, nothing will happen to you. Once we have the capability, we will hand you over to your people."

"Please," Orff said lowly. "You have to trust me."

Kimber's translator couldn't decipher the dialect Lazarus used. She looked to Orff, and he seemed as lost as she was. The Jiralhanae spoke, embraced his son, and with another few word, Ameday stepped forward. "If anything happens to him-"

"I will fall on my sword," Orff said.

The Jiralhanae seemed to accept such a pledge. The youth, shotgun cradled close, walked off with the human, who was barely a few inches his superior. Orff turned to his two remaining company. "Seventy miles to the west is a human base. That is where the Flood have emerged. They are most likely staying close to their emergence point. If I remember the Flood's patterns, they seek to assimilate their immediate surroundings, form a Gravemind, terraform, and then spread out as far as they can. If we can destroy it, for those precious moments, the Flood will be back to their infancy. Hopefully, this colony will be able to evacuate in that time. Brother, sister, if we die-"

Lazarus grinned. "Let it be with a parasite crushed beneath our foot."


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter 6_

The new Warthog trudged heavily through the trees. Kimber had taken the gun turret, and was swaying her aim side to side as if any moment the Flood would be upon them. The sheer weight of the gun, as well as the fact that it was bolted down, meant that recoil was kept to a minimum. She could fire it with relative ease, and was ready to fire at any moment. But there was nothing. Quite literally: nothing. Wolves, boars, deer. No cuddly wildlife or birds in the trees. So many animals bustled in the forest to give the colonists the illusion of Earth. But the trees were silent.

"And the plague swelled, each body to rise against it: devoured."

Kimber wished Orff would just stop talking. The Jiralhanae hadn't said anything, sometimes a snort or growl that just seemed to be habit rather than speech, but the Sangheili seemed to feel it necessary to speak of poetic horrors every few feet. She wasn't sure if this was a war poem or he was just being an asshole.

"Safe alone, it swells, its minions spread and return with a feast of flesh and bone. And it grows and grows, until all is under its embrace."

"Contact!" Kimber screamed.

The Flood bounced through the trees like a stalking jungle cat, dodging the flurry of shots from the gun turret, inching closer and closer until it was in range to leap. It was the shots from Lazarus' Spiker that tore it out of the air, and as it squirmed and cringed on the ground, Kimber fired enough rounds to reduce it to jelly.

Ever calm, Orff steadily ground the Warthog to a stop and climbed out, his two index fingers to his eyes ordering Kimber to stay vigilante. He moved to the pile of paste, plucking something off the ground and bringing it to his vision. He turned and threw it to Kimber, who caught it gracefully. "Private Jordan Sampson," she said, shaking her head.

"The Flood have assimilated humans. They are aware of the colony's location, as well as the colony's few interstellar ships. We have to hurry. We are going to right way."

Indeed, the closer they drew, the denser the swarm grew, until the ground was carpeted with gangrenous flesh and the air was filled with the rattle of turret fire. Captain Trips and his soldiers had come with Warthogs too, but Orff was still caught off guard when one of the Jeeps came screaming forward. Kimber was quick to pepper it with shots, and it erupted in a torrent of flames, but by momentum it continued forward, smashing into their Warthog. Theirs spun and flipped, the flaming wreckage continuing to push it along until, finally, the Warthog ground to a halt, capsizing, wheels still spinning.

Orff stumbled out, drawing his plasma rifles and firing at the advancing horde. With no visible damage, Lazarus shook his fur free of bits of glass, metal, and flame and did the same. Kimber had been thrown clear of the vehicle and was laying still. Fortunate, had she not been thrown she would have been decapitated when the Warthog flipped. The Covenant was quite found of ramming techniques, especially the Brutes with their Prowlers and Chopper. When thrown, she knew to roll along the ground, dividing the impact to avoid serious injury, and her armor absorbed some of the shock. But pain rattled through her. Taking her around the chest, Orff picked up her, and sensing life, held her close to his chest with one arm. She knew to wrap her arms around him, he would protect her.

"Come on!" That was Lazarus. It hurt to turn her head, but she felt Orff's rhythmic strides as he rushed to the nearest entrance to the base: a garage, a huge opening in the ground and down a ramp. The Flood followed. Kimber clipped the Plasma rifle off Orff's belt. She fidgeted, realizing what she was doing Orff draped her over his shoulder. It was a bumpy ride, his shoulder jabbing in her ribs with his every step. She sprayed fire at the advancing mob, a futile effort given their numbers, but it was better than doing nothing. Orff continued, sprinting across the ground, forcing their way through the sea until they rolled down the slope. Massive doors closed behind them, but several Flood managed to reach inside.

"Go," Kimber said, holding her chest as Orff set her down carefully. He nodded, igniting his energy sword and charging into the mass, glowing blade hacking and slashing until all that was left was quivering flesh. Then the lights went out, and they were plunged into darkness, only the glow of Orff's blade lighting the way, and the sprinkled burning, fuming wreckage of what looked to be this base's Hornets and Warthogs breaking the black sea. Kimber and Orff quickly activated the flashlights attached to their respective armors, but it did little to illuminate the black.

"Sound off," Orff said lowly. "Infected?"

"No," Lazarus growled.

Maybe a few cracked ribs from being thrown from the Warthog as well as when Orff carried her, the bones were certainly tender to the touch, but Kimber took a deep, careful breath and said, "No." She almost fell over at the surge of pain. Deep, slow breaths. Put your mind someplace else, just like she was taught.

A sudden flood of light temporarily blinded the three of them. Even when her vision adjusted, she couldn't see very far ahead, but she heard the voice: "Soldier. Name and designation."

Kimber stood up, blocking the brightness out with her eyes, other hand holding her chest. "Lieutenant Nicole Kimber of the Joint Human/Sangheili Special Operations. Who am I addressing?"

"You keep strange company, lieutenant. The enemy of my enemy, is my enemy's enemy."

"Major Orff Schulwerk and Captain Lazarus of the Jiralhanae. They are comrades, here to stop the outbreak of the Flood. Who am I addressing?"

The lights went out again, the only glow the sword and flashlights. Kimber instinctively backed away to the two massive forms that remained behind her. She stretched a hand to Orff's armor, brushing warm fur. She pulled her hand back at Lazarus' growl. Orff's four fingered hand, found her shoulder to remind her he was there. He lowered to a knee, his sword illuminating the area just in front of her.

"Stay close," he whispered.

An overhead light illuminated a pedestal a few feet away, and from the pedestal came a crimson hologram of a Helljumper soldier, in full armor and helmet. Male, by the bone structure and the disembodied voice she assumed belonged to "him". Even only a foot tall, he had a certain presence to him.

"Who am I addressing?" she said one last time.

The hologram glared at the two aliens. "Caesar, UNSC artificial intelligence." He gave a slight, mocking bow.

"Designation?"

"I am responsible for the maintenance of this facility. I've been dormant for several years, but I was made aware of the treaty with the Elites through automatic updates. The presence of the Brute is somewhat troubling however. The policy _is_ immediate execution."

"The outbreak of the Flood should be your primary concern," Orff snapped.

Caesar folded his arms behind his back and lifted his helmeted head. Orff hated dealing with AIs, and crossed his arms in frustration.

"What happened here? What is your operation?" Kimber asked.

"I'm sorry," the AI said. "You don't have clearance for that information."

She sighed, rubbing her head, apparently she didn't enjoy dealing with AIs either. "Clearance level: lollipop."

Even beneath his helmet, the hologram's cringe was noticeable. "My mistake ma'am, allow me to access the records. Please wait a moment."

"Lollipop?" Orff asked.

"Sergeant Johnson's idea, rest his soul. You guys never cracked it, so I guess it worked."

The AI cleared his throat to get their attention. "The facility was erected with the purpose of studying and harnessing the Flood, to be used as a weapon during the war. When such an offensive was removed as an option, I was put on standby. That was 2533. I've been off line from that time to twelve hundred hours ago, when a squad of marines stumbled into my facility. My systems were understandably a bit sluggish, I could not deny them entrance. By the time I was fully online, they had already come deep inside, and found the Flood spores. I tried to warn them, and then to stop them, but they accidentally released one of the spores. It infected, and released the others, and now it spreads. I've done what I can to keep it contained, but it has the human's intelligence, and has managed to disable several of my systems. I've barely been able to maintain myself."

"Containment protocol?" Kimber asked.

"Lockdown, but as I mentioned, the Flood has managed to break quarantine. And lacking a human element, I've been unable to combat them. Most disturbing is a swelling mass they have been 'feeding'. Their first order was assimilating any remaining soldiers. They sent out a distress call, and the others answered. Then they went about devouring the local wildlife. If they follow the usual pattern, they will eventually turn to the colony."

"But if we remove the mass, they will be reduced back to only primal thoughts. We plan to overload the reactor. That should at least buy us some time," Kimber said.

Holographic hand stroked holographic chin, a spot under the helmet. "We can't hope for complete eradication, but as the least, that would destroy the local infestation. You must act quickly."

He was still staring at Orff and Lazarus. "They are our comrades," she repeated.

"I will do everything I can to guide you, open doors and close them behind you. Please hurry though. This infestation is grave, we must act quickly."

He wasn't lying. Outside the doors and into the hallway, the Flood swarmed and snapped hungrily. The initial wave was met with a flurry of orange spikes and durable, swiping blades. Next came to the surgical, precise energy blade in Orff's hand. He swung in wide strokes, hacking the broad flesh to quivering halves. The Flood returned fire. Human rifles burned through their hand, the Jiralhanae and Sangheili's armor and shields struggling to hold back the flurry. The Flood had numbers, but Orff and Lazarus, how they moved, in perfect tandem. Like this was all rehearsed, like they could predict each other's next action. Indeed, once when Orff was at the front with his back to Lazarus, a Flood approaching, Lazarus swung one of his Spikers. Orff was in his path, and could easily have lost his head. But somehow he knew to duck. The Spiker cut through the Flood's top, and the sword through the middle. But still alive and struggling, the Flood lifted a shotgun and blasted Lazarus away. The Jiralhanae stumbled back, his armor sparking. He fell onto his back. Kimber snatched a discarded SMG and opened fire, finishing the Flood off.


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter 7_

It was a long, brutal fight, if it could even be called that. There was no creature in the universe like the Flood. Just a never ending swarm of biomass, slathering towards them. What she would do to fight Sangheili or Jiralhanae again, or even humans, at least she understood how to fight them. And the voices. Why did they have to talk? Screams for mercy or pleas to feed their never ending hunger. Their voices horribly distorted, but beneath it she could recognize them. Myers talked with a lisp. Sanchez talked with an accent. Even with the distortion, she knew them.

Lazarus and Orff pushed against the never ending horde, trading the front line as the other restocked in ammunition. Simply by numbers, their starting weapons had long been abandoned, but they could pick up anything they needed off the ground or simply beat the Flood back with blades and fists. There was no break in the endless horde, or time to rest, or a moment to allow the shields to recharge. Orff and Lazarus were both hit multiple times, their shields fell and their blood shined over their armor, but they just kept pushing.

The narrow hallways were a blessing. The Flood couldn't flank them, or they certainly would have been overwhelmed by now. All they could do was run forward, into the awaiting blades and spikes and bullets. Some seemed to have the intelligence to carry weapons, but given the cramped confines they usually simply hit their brethren in the back. But bullets still got through. Orff growled at each impact.

In what precious few moments the closet mob lay in pieces, Lazarus and Orff took those moment to catch their breath. Their armor sparked and sizzled, trying to heal the minor damage to their bodies and regenerate their shields. Kimber stepped forward with her submachine gun and sprayed the hallways. The punch of the bullets slowed the Flood's advance however slightly. Stray limbs splattered the floor. When the mob approached, she slunk back behind the Jiralhanae and Sangheili again.

"The swarm will only grow denser. To break through, you will require better fire power," Caesar said from the base's intercom. "At the cross roads, take the right hallways, two doors down."

Caesar must have been working against his own restrictions. He closed a set of blast doors down the left hallway, cutting the Flood off. At last putting a halt to some of the mass. By Kimber estimation, it was still thirty feet down the right hallway. It took them nearly twenty minutes of struggling through the sea of bodies, struggling against the endless horde, hacking and slashing and punching and kicking. The Flood never changed their tactics. Fortunately they were still too stupid to devise a plan to counter. But that tactic was working. She could see the strain in Orff's movements, from his assorted wounds and exhaustion of fighting. It wasn't fighting an enemy. It was fighting a force of nature. Fighting a storm or ocean.

Somehow they made it. Caesar apparently still had enough influence over the system to automatically open the door, and close it the moment Lazarus had slipped inside. He was last to come in, hacking the Flood to pieces with his bayonets and smashing them back. He paid no heed to their words, so finally Orff dragged him inside. The door closed, slicing off a Flood's tentacle, a tentacle that still slithered towards them. Already, there was a horrible pounding against the door as the bodies threw themselves against the barricade. And still the voices.

"That should hold for a few minutes," Caesar said. "You will have to act quickly."

One of Lazarus' Spikers had completely fallen apart. The second one seemed to barely be holding together. He had run out of ammunition several agonizing steps prior and had only been carrying it as a bludgeon and sword. Taking firm grip of it, he broke the two bayonets off and slipped one onto his belt. He snatched up the other and checked its sharpness on his fingernail, before tossing it at the ground before Kimber's feet. She picked it up. To her, it was more the size of a machete than a combat knife. She fastened a makeshift sheathe from a bit of her suit and tied it to her back with the duck tape in her survival pack.

Lazarus' armor slipped off him when he shook, almost like a dog trying to rid himself of water. His shoulder guards and the left arm piece, as well as leggings clanged loudly on the ground. All he had left was the chest piece and the helmet, and some armor on his right hand that would probably been made as a knuckle duster. Not that he would need any aid in the force of his punches. Purely by instinct, she took out her medical supplies and moved towards him. He lifted an armored hand to brain her, but she glared at him, and he stopped. "Sit down," she said.

Lazarus growled, but complied. Still, Kimber found it prudent to stand on one of his outstretched legs in order to reach his shoulder. He offered his wrist and bicep. How many times had he been shot? There were dozens of wounds in his chest, but she doubted he would let her remove his chest plate again. Hopefully the tightness of the armor would apply enough pressure he wouldn't bleed out.

"I would recommend the M7057/Defoliant Projector," Caesar said. Now he was projecting himself through a hologram on a pedestal. Apparently every room had one. "Our tests have shown fire has great proficiency against the Flood."

Sangheili had only recently begun adopting human weapons, and Orff still showed some hesitance as he traced a finger over the rack of assault rifles and pistols. He didn't have his Plasma rifles, and in the heat of battle he had taken up SMGs off the floor, but it must have been hard for him, out of the heat of battle. He settled on an assault rifle and a magnum on his thigh. Lazarus had no such problems. He took up a shotgun and examined it with familiar intimacy. He took up a second one, and held them both in one massive hand.

"How much farther to the reactor room?" Orff asked, arms crossed over chest and standing directly in front of Caesar. Kimber moved close to him, tracing a finger over the bloodied spot in his armor. He swatted her away. Sangheili had some stupid thing about medical attention. They would rather bleed out than accept any aid. Once she had had to drug him just so she could suture a wound on his thigh. A wound given to him by a Jiralhanae that he had moments later beheaded without pause. What was it about Lazarus. What was in his past that put her in this position? Taping his wounds. Sharing a ride in a jeep. Orff had never mentioned work with the Jiralhanae, but he never talked about his service in the war either. It was a dark period that neither side enjoyed talking about, probably why the treaty held.

The hologram blinked away, only to reappear this time in the form of a map. "We are here. We are fortunate, the mass of Flood is assembling in the east wing, and the majority of the drones seem to be moving to protect it since your arrival. The reactor is here, the center of the compound, a wing to the west. What few cameras I still have are offering me some disturbing images. They are _recycling_ their dead and wounded, taking the organic matter and turning it into more units. Flood never seems to reach perfection, they always find some new way to improve, evolve. You will have to move quickly."

Kimber examined the hologram. "Is that even possible? Reaching the reactor. Orff, you're about to collapse."

"Nil volentibus arduum," Caesar said. Kimber glared at him.

"If the human pup is so frightened, she could remain here," Lazarus growled, looking directly at Kimber, who was stuffing all the SMG ammunition she could into her uniform. She turned to him, then to Orff.

"Nicole has proven her competency time and time again."

Lazarus gave her a low growl, and she really understood how massive he was.

"Protect her like you would one of your own. She is my sister."

"Orff," he spat. "She's a human."

"And you're a Jiralhanae. Which one of you am I supposed to execute on sight?"

Kimber took a step back under Lazarus' glare. Not far enough as he reached out and picked her up, holding her a moment, but showing no aggression he dropped her.

A moment after the door opened and the Flood tried to pour in, a duo of streams of flames incinerated the masses. Orff's armor was the best maintained, its shields the strongest, he was the first to step out. The streams of flames filled the hallways. It poured through, burning the masses. When the flamethrower overheated, he stepped back and Lazarus stepped forward. Kimber served as rear guard. The Flood who guarded the mass apparently broke off, and now surged forth, but were met with the fiery embrace. The Flood had human intelligence, they would have deducted the plan to set off the reactor. They knew they had to stop the little trio or be destroyed.

"We're getting overwhelmed," she said. Her suit didn't have the shields of her comrades, and she felt genuine fear as the squirming tentacles stretched towards her. The bulbous spores scurried over the ground, popping with every bullet she fired. She held on the trigger, only releasing it to refocus her aim. The bodies shrieked and cried, but one after another, they climbed over their dead. She continued backing up until she hit something warm and furry and her weapon clicked. She dropped her SMG and pulled her side arm. The tiny bullets did next to nothing against the Flood combat form, and she considered turning the weapon upon herself. Better dead than alive in that horrible mass. She drew the bayonet from her back and slashed forward. The sharpness cut into the Flood shoulder, and it just kept coming. She stumbled onto her back, continuing to crawl back.

It was only a stream of flame that stopped it, so close her armor began to melt to her skin until she crawled back, once again bumping into Lazarus. It wasn't the Jiralhanae's intention to save her. If she had been standing at the time, he would have poured the flames right through her. Said she was infected by the Flood and she had to be euthanized, and Orff would never have known. But a simple fact she couldn't overcome was that he had saved her. He had feared being overwhelmed and she was saved by proxy, but he had saved her. He would have burned her to ash had she not been on the floor, but he had saved her. With the flames overhead, she reached for her SMG and reloaded it. And when the fire ceased, she reached up and took a handful of Lazarus' fur, hoisting herself to her feet.

"Worthless whelp," he growled, turning back to the front flank, and still he had saved her.

The heat in the hallway was unbearable. The mounds lay smoldering, some still crawling along despite the rounds she emptied into them. And the Flood had weapons of their own, pistols and shotgun and assault rifles. Flurries of rounds were exchanged. She stayed low to the ground, most of the bullets flying over head but more than once her armor had to stop the bullets.

"How many can their possibly be?" Lazarus asked. He threw his flamethrower into the crowd behind them, pulling one of the shotguns from his back and firing. Just as he didn't intend to save her by pouring the stream of flame into the Flood that would no doubt have torn her apart, she was certain his next move wasn't meant to protect her. He ducked and displayed his back to the explosion, protecting his head and front, but just by chance he was in her path, protecting her from the flames by proxy. It was a smart move, Orff did the same, decimating the remaining Flood and opening a clear path to their destination.

In the moments it took to reach the door, they saw another horde flooding along. Assault rifles and pistol hummed loudly, filling the narrow corridors. "By the Rings," Lazarus cried. Kimber went in first, then Orff. Lazarus was last, and had continued exchanging fire until the door closed behind him.

"They will manage to get through the door in approximately ten minutes," Caesar said.

"More time than I need," Kimber said. She began working at the terminal. "Course, there is no way we could fight our way out of here before the meltdown. Even if the Flood lay down their weapons, how are we to get out of range? We're not going to make it. We can't do this. This is a rich man entering the Kingdom of God."

Orff didn't understand what she meant, but didn't bother asking. "We knew this was a suicide mission from the start."

She settled a little heavier in the chair, continuing to type. There was actually a self-destruct option. Probably in the event of a Covenant invasion, or even if the Flood managed to escape. A human would have to activate it, a common precaution. "Done."

Kimber looked to the Jiralhanae. He looked horrible. Bits and pieces of his armor had been shrugged off, and his fur moist with blood. She detected a straining in his breaths. "You're taking this well." They always seemed to, or at least she had been told Thantus went in to his death calm and without fear. Fulfilled in killing Colonel Kalashnikov, avenging his brood and mate. That's all anyone really wanted, to die with their vengeance sated.

"From the moment your Alliance murdered Truth, we have been dead. As was our agreement, my son will live through this day. For that, I have no regrets."

"Nice way to look at things," Kimber admitted. "I've had a good run." She took out the photograph from her breast pocket. Tiny, Eva, and Nic. Such an old medium, but she always held it close. She looked at it, kissed it, and Lazarus pinched it between two fingers and brought it up to his eye.

"Give it back," she screamed, pouncing on him, punching him. He caught her and held her at arm's length. "Orff," she whined, but the Sangheili just started with an annoying smirk. Even the AI seemed to be enjoying the spectacle. Lazarus examined the picture closely, and handed it to her.

"It's your choice brother," the Jiralhanae said. "How do you want to go out?"


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter 8_

"It has been an honor to serve by your side, both of you," Orff said.

Kimber leaned back in her chair, spinning around in a childish manner. "I survived it all. I survived you," she said, pointing to Orff. "I survived you," she said, pointing to Lazarus. "And I survived you," she said, pointing to Caesar. "I really, really thought that I could make it." She looked down at the picture in her left hand. She looked down at the pistol in her right.

Orff put a massive hand on her shoulder. She put a hand on one of his fingers. "It is just too bad that we don't have some sort of alcoholic beverage to commemorate this moment." She stood up, stretching.

Even Lazarus, with his low grunts and growls, gave a chuckle at that. He looked to Orff. "We could have one last meal," he said. He put an arm around Kimber's shoulder and squeezed her into his side. The fur. The scent. The heat. She pushed away, but he was firm.

"Stop," she screamed.

"Make me," Lazarus mocked.

"What are you, a child?"

"Five minutes until the reactor overloads," Caesar interrupted. "Three point four minutes until the Flood breaches the door. I can release gas, if you would like. It'll be like falling asleep. It will take approximately one minute and twenty seconds for you, lieutenant, if you breathe deeply. I don't know how long it would take for specimens with such substantial body masses as the major and the captain. They would most likely succumb to the Flood before the toxins rendered them unconscious."

A uppercut between Lazarus' legs, and he released her. He also stumbled back, wheezing, snarling. He would probably have mauled Kimber if Orff didn't insert himself between them.

"Orff," said the major's radio, loud enough that everyone could hear. "This is the _Shadow of Intent_. Orff, do you copy? Are you still alive down there?"

"Rtas," he breathed, lifting his finger to his radio. He turned his back to the bickering Jiralhanae and human. "Are the humans evacuated?"

There was a long pause. "Some. A few. The Flood had overwhelmed most of the colonies by the time we arrived. We fought them as best we could, but just as quickly as they came, they stopped their advancement. We assume they returned to your position. I assume your threat took priority over increased assimilation. A few humans were left uninfected."

"That explains the resistance. The threat must be dealt with, Rtas. Destroy the colony. Destroy the entire planet. And then have a talk with Lord Hood about his use of biological weapons." He sighed. "The longer this colony is intact, the longer the Flood has to regroup. Destroy it now."

Nicole gave a low bow of her head, but she smiled at him, nodding.

"Orff," the radio said. "We've destroyed the colony's ships. The Flood will not be escaping the planet, at least for the time being."

"If I may," Caesar said. "There are several ways to escape this facility. It was built with the fear of a Covenant raid. There are dozens, hundreds of exits. We are quite close to one now. Approximately ten feet. A ladder that will take you to the surface. Perhaps for extraction from your ship."

Kimber shrugged. "I'm up for one last try."

Orff thought to himself. "Rtas, we may be able to make it out. Please move over our position and be on the lookout for us. But if the Flood regroups, burn us."

"Yes, major. May the ancestors watch over you."

"And you, shipmaster." Orff shut off his radio, turning to his comrades. "Any suggestions?"

"We could try shooting our way out," Kimber said. "Mix things up a bit."

"I should have just killed the pup," Lazarus chuckled. "I thought if I killed her, search parties would be sent in for her. They would find a trace of me. What happened, did she tell her parents that she saw a gorilla roaming the forests?"

"A strand of fur on her shirt," Orff said.

"Now I fight through the Flood just to meet an executioner's blade," Lazarus said.

"Your death is not assured." That was Kimber, not Orff, and Lazarus turned to face her. He snorted at the reflective visor. She struggled to stand. God, he was huge.

"Caesar: open and close the door on my mark. We will throw grenades to clear the initial infestation. Then transfer all your systems and research onto a portable disk so you may be removed. Lazarus, Nicole, do not stop moving, our goal is purely evacuation," Orff said. "His voice dropped low. "Watch each other's back."

He held four plasma grenades in oversized hands, Lazarus kept his shotguns trained, Kimber pulled the pins out of two grenades, holding one in each hand and the safety latch tight. "Its been a pleasure," she said. The moment the door slid open, the thick, slimy mass burst forward, but was met with a buckshot, then the blue glowing spheres sprinkled throughout the flesh and two heavy metal grenades at its feet. The door slide shut, and they all heard the loud boom that vibrated through the foundation. Kimber took only a moment to yank the small chip from the base projector before Orff yanked her along.

Kimber wasn't sure if these Flood had reached the level of sentience that gave them confusion, but they seemed dazed, and they made it out of the hallway before they had to life the weapons and blast the monsters to pieces.

"Left here," Caesar said. "The ladder to the surface. Do hurry."

Orff pushed Kimber up the rungs, and immediately she scurried to the top, forcing the latch open.

"Just had to be a ladder," Orff joked as he fired another volley. He did like the feel of the shotgun, and how it tore through the Flood was absolutely poetic. He was only vaguely aware as Lazarus took hold of a protruding piece of his armor. Then he was thrown off the ground. Stretching his arms, he took hold of one of the ladder runs, but his weight, as well as the momentum, caused the rungs to rip out of the wall. He caught another. Again, it ripped out. His momentum must have been lessened when he grabbed the third, it shifted slightly but stayed in the walls. Clumsily, and with a great deal of effort, he managed to continue his climb.

"Lazarus," he shouted.

The Jiralhanae bashed his shotgun into a Flood, before stabbing a spike grenade into its face and kicking it back. He climbed as fast as he could, the Flood reaching and grabbing for him. Some took hold of his foot or around the neck, smashing fists into him. Through that, he was strong and continued to climb. Foot by foot, rung by rung. The assault rifles sang, bullets pounding in his form as he struggled to climb. Every few steps he shook, and the Flood bodies tumbled to the ground. Half way up, the ladder gave way. It was only stabbing his blade into the wall that stopped his plummet. What little remained of his armor was struggling to keep the peppering gunshots at bay. He roared, whether from pain or adrenaline.

Orff and Kimber emptied their weapons. Precise shots punched the Flood forms off Lazarus' body. But there was just too many. His wounds and exhaustion must have been taking their toll, and for the first time Orff wondered when was the last time he had slept? The past few days harassed by the humans. Even before that, fitful sleeps for fear that any moment he would be discovered.

He was struggling, climbing almost as slow as Orff. The Sangheili lay on his stomach and stretched his arm down. Lazarus' weight nearly tore it from the socket, but he clenched his mandibles and strained his muscles to hoist as Lazarus lost all strength but still struggled to climb. When on the surface, on fall fours he struggled forward. Kimber slammed the hatch down.

Lazarus lay down on his back, forceful breaths struggling to stay steady. Crawling to him, Orff began to remove his armor. A bad idea perhaps, the tightness put pressure on the wounds. Like pulling the cork out of a bottle, blood bubbled up, saturating the fur and seeping into the ground.

"By the Rings, did any of the bullets manage to miss you?" Orff asked.

"I'm not a small target," Lazarus chuckled.

Kimber pushed Orff away and climbed onto the Jiralhanae's massive chest. Applying pressure to the worst wounds. "This is going to feel like someone is stabbing you with a knife of fire ants," she said, taking out a bottle of biofoam. "Just try and stay still." Then she realize Lazarus had passed out. That didn't stop her from talking. "The _Shadow of Intent_ is above us," she said. "We can get you medical attention. You'll be fine."

Above them, the light of the sun was blotted out as the ship pulled through the sky. The pull of the tractor beam lifted them up.

The humans had been given refugee on the _Shadow of Intent_. Orff had to laugh, earning him odd looks from the crew that was there to meet him, as well as Kimber. Humans in the mess hall, a Jiralhanae in the medical ward.

In fact, the humans were a blessing. There were no Sangheili medics on the ship, and Lazarus badly needed help. Orff had been hit multiple times, Kimber's ribs hurt and there was a gash on her forearm and she hadn't even realized she had been hit in the hip which was no aching every time she walked, but Lazarus was worse. Transporting him was a matter, but finally Orff organized three additional minors to help him carry the unconscious Jiralhanae to the ward. They were plainly disgusted by the act, but they obeyed like good little soldiers.

"Major." Orff was seated, and lifted his vision to face Major Jones. He held a respectful salute. "Its good that you made it." Something was sincere in his voice, but his face turned stern. "You should have executed the Brute. I should walk in there right now and put a stop to this ridiculous surgery, let him bleed out. You know the policy, and presently my best doctors are working to save his life when they should be helping my people."

Orff stood up. "As I mentioned, the Jiralhanae is under my protection. I will consider any acts of hostility as crimes directed at myself." Orff's eyes focused. "Where is the youth?"

Jones looked down. "You know the policy," he muttered, turning to leave, but a firmness found his throat and put him against the wall. Off the ground.

"Where is the youth?"

"You know the-" He started to choke as Orff tightened his squeeze. "Don't act as if your hands are clean in this," Jones snapped, holding himself up by the massive digits in a hope to relieve some pressure. The willpower not to squeeze just a little tighter, it was overwhelming. Orff eased the tightness to the point Jones could talk. Jones continued, "All Brutes, no matter the situation, are to be put down. No exceptions, ever. That is your policy. And it was your teams that did it. They came down to see if we were clean of infection. And they killed the youth. Not me."

"I gave my word that that child would be safe."

"Then you should take that matter up with _your_ shipmaster, not me. It was his men who did it, your men, not mine, and not me. Now kill me or release me, but don't preach as if you are the noble party. You are the guilty ones, not us."

How Orff wanted to. How he wanted to just squeeze, jettison the body out the air lock, play dumb when someone came questioning him. Finger by finger, Jones was released. Orff punched a fist through the wall instead of his head. Jones choked, rubbing his throat and steadying himself.

"Which of my brothers did it?"

"I don't know, you all look alike to me."

"Tell me something."

Jones thought to himself. "Purple and black armor, and a scar on his left hand. Big guy, biggest Elite I've ever seen, bigger than all the others. He seemed to be the guy in charge, giving orders. Fighting the Flood." He sighed. "I know it's hard, but it was the right thing to do. The Brutes are the enemy."

"It was not long ago we said the same about you," Orff growled. "Lazarus risked his life to save your colony, while you stayed behind. There would have been no survivors were it not for him."

Jones bowed his head. "He is the enemy. Don't ever forget that."

Footsteps sounded his retreat down the hallway. Orff entered the infirmary, where Lazarus was being tended to.


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter 9_

"By god, it's times like this that I wonder how the hell we ever won the war. Blood loss, massive trauma, burns, I've lost count of how many bullets we've plucked out. But his heart is still pumping, its amazing. He's just still going after all this. And the Helljumpers think their tough S-O-Bs."

"Shut up and help me," the doctor snapped. He was more or less sitting on Lazarus' chest, trying to stop the bleeding from a gaping gash in the collar bone. "Do you want to be the one that tells the major that his pet Brute died on the table?"

Actually, there wasn't a table on the entire station that could sustain the weight of the Jiralhanae. They had sterilized the floor and laid down a dozen plastic tarps to catch the gallons of blood that were pumping out of the wounds. There were no less than six surgeons operating on the Jiralhanae, with three advising, explaining what lead to where, which veins were which and their human equivalencies. It was surprisingly easy actually. Working on other humans required a delicate hand and steady cuts. It was tight work, the slightest knick could end the life. But everything was larger when dealing with the Jiralhanae. Rather than gently dragging a scalpel to open they skin, they had to saw and strain just to open the thick, dense flesh. Someone had suggested using a chainsaw, and at the moment the doctor was seriously considering such a tool. The doctor worked more like a painter, with broad strokes of his scalpel, rather than the delicacy he was accustomed to.

Orff stood a distance away, not making his presence known as he watched the surgeons work. Sangheili despised doctors: creatures who made their patients bleed without honor. Who tore and ripped flesh not in noble battle. Who inflicted suffering to achieve relief, not for glory but for life. Buzz saws and scalpels were their pistols and swords. Failure brought death to the dying. But victory brought life. Orff sighed, useless now, in saving his brother from the jaws of death. He knew nothing. He had to trust these humans.

"He saved _my_ life," Orff said, sensing Kimber had come to his side. Actually it wasn't until she reached up and tapped his elbow that he even realized she was there. She could be quiet as a mouse when she had to be. "Long time ago. One of your Spartans emptied a full clip into my gut. I still got the scar," he said happily, patting his side. "Not from the bullets, from Lazarus' 'medical attention'. But he saved me."

"What will happen to him?"

"Imprisonment. Then public execution. Provided he lives through the next few minutes. They'll probably say he's the new chieftain of the Jiralhanae, Tartarus' son even. It'll be good for morale. They'll make up some story to cover their ass. The planet had a hidden Loyalist base, and Lazarus was working on using the Flood as a weapon against us. That's why the planet had to be destroyed. It will only cement the Alliance's zeal in hunting them down."

The doctor shouted and lifted bloodied hands, giving some order to one of his nurses that Orff didn't understand.

"Did you know that Ameday was going to be executed before they even left the planet?" Orff asked.

KImber shrugged. "I don't know what I knew. I mean, policy is policy, but I figured they would hold off. Or, I don't know. I trusted Jones. And he didn't do it. I guess I did know yours might. I know how yours feel about his. Did you really think he would be given passage? Really Orff, did you?"

"I believed my brethren valued honor."

"He's the enemy," Kimber said with a sort of blankness. "And we aren't supposed to care about the enemy."

Orff looked down to her. The doctor, with his blood spattered apron and paper mask, came up to him. "Major?" he asked. "Your Brute is alive for the moment. He's in pretty bad shape though, needless to say. And none of us are qualified to work on him. We don't know his anatomy, we don't know what drugs his body can tolerate, what would stop his heart. We did the basic stuff, removed the bullets that we could, tied off the open veins, tried to set any bones, treated the burns. Sir, even for a Brute, he's gone through hell. I don't know what is still holding him together."

Orff placed a hand on the doctor's shoulder. In fear, the doctor recoiled, until he realized Orff wasn't going to hurt him. "Thank you, for everything. Have him restrained and move him as soon as he is able. For now, no one gets in aside from myself or the lieutenant. We are the only ones that can authorize access to this area. I'm sorry, but I will have to ask you and your subordinates to leave. I will call you only if I need you."

"Sir, I don't think I have the authority to close off an entire wing."

"Anyone who questions your orders can take the matter up with me."

The doctor saluted, bloodied hand rising to head rag in a salute. "Yes sir."

---

When stabilized, Lazarus was moved to a private area in the cargo hold of the _Shadow of Intent_. Orff watched over him the entire time, occasionally asking Kimber to go out and fetch him something to eat. When he heard steps behind him, far heavier than his lieutenant's, he drew his sword, expecting to find an eager minor hoping to execute a Jiralhanae. "Shipmaster," Orff said, moving to strict attention.

"At ease," Rtas said. "I am proud of you, brother. You acted with bravery and honor. Your actions saved many of our ally's lives."

"And yet, our brethren have not acted with nobility. You, shipmaster, have not acted with nobility."

"I was made aware of the crime."

"Your men executed a child."

"A child of our enemy," Rtas corrected. "We have both killed human youths. And we have both killed Jiralhanae youths. What is the problem here?"

Orff was ashamed to treat the shipmaster with such hostility. He tried to calm down. "When we still fought the humans, I was intimate with the Jiralhanae, Lazarus' pack to be specific."

"Dozens of our brother's deaths have been attributed to that pack. You wouldn't be here if they had met you in the war."

"I was never a Sangheili in their eyes, and they weren't Jiralhanae in mine. I was bastardized because of my intimacy with them, even as it was my orders from the Council. They were my brothers, and now Lazarus' son has been slain, despite my word. I gave my word and for that Lazarus was willing to give his life."

Rtas sighed. "The Jiralhanae are not the monsters that we have been taught."

"You have known them?"

The shipmaster nodded. "I have, however briefly, and for what Lazarus has done, his execution shall be withheld. If you plan to do something stupid, I can only guarantee it will not end well for either of you."

Orff sighed, sitting back down in the chair, beside Lazarus' bed. The rhythmic whoosh of the respirator and the beep…beep…beep of his pulse.

"Where the men you sent down under orders to execute Ameday?"

"No," Orff said quickly. "They were ordered to confirm that the humans were not infected, we couldn't risk the Flood getting on board this ship." He sighed, frustrated. "I wasn't even aware that there was a Jiralhanae youth amongst the survivors. So, I didn't order them not to kill him. I'm sorry brother. Please, do not anything drastic."

"I will do what I must, shipmaster."

"Right now, the safest place for him to be is on this ship. I can protect him. I can order no one to touch him, put him under the protection of soldiers that I have the utmost trust in."

"Yes shipmaster."

"Please brother," Rtas said, placing both hands on his shoulder. "Just give it time. Are you aware of which of my men are responsible for the crime?"

"Vadum," Orff said. "Prin Vadum, one of your housemen. The humans described him. Also, he's bragging about it. I'm amazed he didn't skin the child as a trophy."

"I will see that he is dealt with."

Orff laughed, long and loud. "Go to the Council with his crime? He'll be promoted to commander."

"Just trust me."

"I'm sorry sir, but I must do what I must."

---

It wasn't for another three days that Lazarus finally woke up. He groaned and spat the respirator out from between his thick lips, stumbling and trying to stand, but he became aware of the restraints at his arms, chest and legs. Thick bindings, and because he was starved and still wounded, he just couldn't bare the thought of moving. He confirmed he wasn't dead however, and casually leaned back, looking to his side at Orff. "You look terrible," he chuckled.

"Haven't slept. Don't trust the humans, or the Sangheili."

Lazarus yawned, the breath washed over Orff, who flinched. "You really hate me, don't you? Or is it your council? Denying me a death in battle. Now I must face your executioners blade before your masses. Why couldn't you just let me die on the planet?"

"You've been given amnesty for your crimes, at least for now. You will remain imprisoned however."

Lazarus idly struggled with his bindings, but they were strong and he was weak. "I doubt you speak the truth. You will never allow one of us to breathe if it can be helped. Where is my son? I would like to see him one last time before my head adorns your shipmaster's wall."

Orff looked down.

"Brother, where is my son?"

"We have a policy."

The meaning of his words wasn't immediately realized, because the monitor beeped rhythmically four times before it started to speed up. Lazarus was struggling with all his might now, straining his bindings and shaking the foundation of his bed, they had at last managed to find one usually reserved for Mgalekgolo. How Orff wished the bindings would snap and Lazarus would kill him, relieve him of this burden. But the bindings held.

---

Prin Vadum was in the mess hall, speaking with some of the human refugees, exchanging war stories. The fact that they were talking about killing their company hardly seemed to faze them. They were interesting creatures, these humans, and he felt a bit of remorse that he had spent so much time hunting them down. Slaughtering them by the masses. Blinded by Truth's lies.

"Prin." He turned to see the red clad major standing in the center of the mess hall. Fists clenched. Mandibles tight. Eyes glaring. Prin stood up, apologizing to the humans before facing Orff.

"You murdered Ameday?" Orff asked.

"I put down a Brute, something you didn't have the stomach to do."

Orff's hand found the blade's handle on his belt. He ignited the sword, and almost immediately the humans scurried away for fear of the inevitable. The Sangheili were less speedy, but they retreated to the farthest wall. Some even took stances ahead of the humans, whether out of respect or for the knowledge of how bad it would look if a human were killed on the Sangheili's fleet's signature ship. Orff dropped the sword to the ground. Prin's fist tightened. "Brother," he said. "Please, don't do this."

Orff growled. "I do what I must."


	10. Chapter 10

_Chapter 10_

Prin Vadum's jaw still hurt the following night, as well as most of his ribs. He was bigger than Orff, and stronger, and arguably better trained, but Orff had been out for blood, and he really didn't want to hurt his deranged brother. So he avoided punches and kicks, doing his best to restrain the major. But the major fought like an animal, or perhaps a Brute. It was only when Rtas intervened that Orff calmed down to the point that he could be escorted out of the mess hall by a trio of minors. By that time, both Prin's left mandibles had been dislocated, and he had been forced to put them back in the socket himself since he refused to be shamed in front of his comrades. Something excruciating, even by his standards. Then he was ordered to his quarters, where he had remained for the past few hours.

He was completely baffled when he heard the knock on the door. Even more baffled when he opened the door and found no one there. Perhaps he had been expecting Orff to come and apologize for his outburst, but no. Kimber cleared her throat to get the towering Sangheili's attention. "Special Operation Operative Prin Vadum?" she asked standing at salute.

"Lieutenant Nicole Kimber," he said, returning the gesture. "It is an honor ma'am. You're many deeds in the name of the Sangheili are well documented. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, face to face."

"The feeling is mutual, sir. May I come in?"

It was an odd request, and Prin was hesitant to step aside. He craned his neck outside, and after confirming that no one would see, no one would know of the company he was keeping, he quickly herded her in, closing the door.

"I just wanted to thank you, personally," she said. She stood in the center of the room, somewhat nervous and awkward. He couldn't blame her. He imagined himself quite frightening. "You led the battalion planet side to rescue my people? I've been told you acted with bravery and cunning. There were casualties, so many casualties, but I fear so many more lives would have been lost had you not been in charge."

Prin nodded, taking a seat on his cot. Most likely so his impressive height wouldn't be so intimidating to her. Still, he was absolutely huge. "It was nothing ma'am. You and Orff did all the work. You fought the Flood. You distracted them, letting us evacuate the civilians. You are the real heroes."

She smiled coyly, embarrassed. "Coming from a warrior such as yourself, that's an honor." She paused, thinking to herself. "You were the one to kill the Brute cub?"

"Yes."

"Good job," Kimber smiled. "Obviously, I can't take a Brute on myself." To emphasis her tiny form, she opened her arms as if expecting a hug. She was out of armor, only wearing jeans and a tank top and sneakers, not boots. Her arms were about as thick as one of Prin's fingers. "Ninety pounds of flesh and bone. Not an ounce of muscle on me. I was hoping my fellow man would do it, but they haven't the balls."

Prin sighed, lacing his fingers under his chin, leaning forward so they were almost level. "You humans have behaved with bravery against the Brutes." He sighed, breath blowing over Kimber's face. He didn't do it intentionally, he didn't notice when she cringed. A Sangheili was always a Sangheili, and even though Prin was kind and friendly, he still saw her as something beneath him. Something not worth devoting his full attention. "I worry about Orff, though. His hesitance to kill the Brute is troubling."

"He also beat the crap out of you," she giggled, but caught herself. "Sorry."

Prin rubbed his eyes. "During the war, he had intimacy with the barbarians. What if," he paused. "What if they've corrupted him? The Arbiter frees us of Truth's lies, but now Orff is blinded by an even crueler fraud."

Kimber put a hand on his knee. He looked down at it, confused, but assumed this was some outward show of affection. "You've taken care of the cub, and the shipmaster will take care of the adult as soon as Orff leaves the ship. And Orff will forget all about this. I promise. He has no problem killing Brutes, I've seen him slaughter the overgrown monkeys. It's just this one thing, and I'll make sure he's fine."

Prin nodded. "You are a noble creature. Strong of spirit and keen of mind. You are good for him."

Kimber set down her knapsack and pulled out a large, clear bottle, almost the size of her torso. How she could even hold it was a mystery to the Sangheili, who watched as she set it down on the floor. "Orff's favorite. Supposed to be around ten times as strong as our alcohols, though given our difference in mass, I'm still not sure how much of an effect it will have on you. I've never had it, I think one sip would be enough to kill me. Orff gave it to me as a gift a while ago, I've been saving it for a very special occasion."

Prin picked up the bottle, twisting the cap and looking at Kimber expectantly. She nodded, with that innocent smile. He opened his mandibles and poured a large amount down his gullet. After a moment, his grip on the bottle loosened and it fell to the floor, shattering into pieces. Kimber instinctively backed away as the massive body swayed. "Fall backwards, please," she said. He did, slouching into a seated position, against the wall. "Thank you."

She waited a few more moments for the sedative to take full effect before crawling up to him. He was breathing lightly, softly, like a little homicidal baby. She wondered how many lives he had ended, how many humans. Somehow, thinking about that, made this part easier. She took hold of the blade clipped on his belt. Orff had let her hold his on occasion, but she didn't have nearly enough practice with it as she would have liked. At the very least, she knew how to ignite it so that it wouldn't hack off one of her arms. The blade was as light as air, which gave it a very odd feel. She imagined she would cut off her own arm sooner than win a duel, simply by the lack of compensation for the weight. But what came next didn't demand any sort of grace or training.

Carefully she pressed the edge to Prin's throat, the sharp hotness slicing through the skin suit and skin. Dragging it, she opened his throat, the purple, heady smelling blood washing out. She wrapped his massive fingers around the hilt and carefully set his arm done at his side. The blood was flushing now, over the bed, staining her hand, she took a step back so it wouldn't touch her feet. Before climbing into the ventilation shaft, she locked the door from the inside with her clean hand. Kimber was careful as she removed the grate of a ventilation shaft in the roof, leaping up and taking firm hold of the sides. Straining her muscles, she hoisted herself up, disappearing into the darkness.

---

They drugged Lazarus to transport him, though he assumed the injections would be lethal, and struggled and bit against the human doctors as they tried to get close. Even restrained, they were terrified. The problem was solved when one took up a shotgun loaded rock salt and fired, point blank, at his face, stunning him long enough that they could stab the sharp tip of the needles through the thick fur and skin of his neck. "I trusted you," he growled, eyeing Orff, who had accompanied the humans, before passing out.

Lazarus woke in a cell, fairly large, and having such luxuries as a well sized bed and something of a bathroom, even a curtain that would offer some taste of privacy. Three of the walls were thick steel that refused to yield against him. The fourth was something clear, like glass, but having a red hue, and it burned him when he touched it. Beyond the crimson sheen, stood Orff.

"I'm sorry," the Sangheili said. "For everything. For your son. For this cage. Every crime we have done to you. Everything."

Lazarus sighed, moving to the far wall. "I thought my father was a fool, so blinded with hate that he couldn't see you as you were. But as I grew, I came to understand. That first mission of ours, that botched raid on the human colony. The orders were passed down by your Council. The reconnaissance was done by Sangheili agents. How long I have wondered, when was it decided Jiralhanae would handle the raid? Did the reconnaissance team fail to do a thorough job because such resources couldn't be devoted to a pack of Brutes?" He thought to himself, shifting his head from side to side. "My father was a fool not to have heeded your warnings, but if he had properly known what he was dealing with before the scent of blood was in the air.

"Have you any idea how many operations played just like that? Faulty intelligence, inferior ships, insufficient forces. You know the story of the _Sacred Will_? A hand me down ship, manned by Jiralhanae after it was decided it was unfit for Sangheili?"

"It made a jump," Orff grumbled.

"It was torn apart in slip space. The entire crew: dead the moment the coldness of space touched them. An entire pack of my brothers, not by the human's hand, but by yours."

Orff bowed his head. "Forgive me."

Lazarus snorted. After a breath, his voice grew softer. "Your requests for forgiveness aren't needed. It was never you. It was your fathers and your Council, but never you. Please, sheathe your sword. I have lost my son, and soon I will lose my planet, I don't wish to lose my last brother. When will I lose my planet?"

Orff sighed. "You Jiralhanae have taken everything that can fly and barricaded your home planet. You don't have the resources to spread or pose a real threat to us, so we are simply massing our forces so that we can punch through your defenses and destroy your planet, at a minimal risk to us. A month or a year."

Lazarus walked to the back of his cell, sitting down. "We couldn't have done it better ourselves. Bravo."

It seemed as if Orff might say something, but he clicked his mandibles instead, turning and leaving the jail, leaving Lazarus alone. Alone in the cell, he waited, sitting against the wall, staring into nothing. Above him, the ceiling creaked and strained in a sound reminiscent of when Yanme'e patrolled the ventilation shafts. A moment later, high above, the roof yielded, and a small foot emerged from the grate, kicking and thrashing wildly, trying to get a footing in the air. Lazarus stood and walked over, taking a long time to examine the swinging leg. Finally, he took the leg by the ankle and yanked. A very light weight collided with his opposing outstretched hand. Holding his arm out, it took him a moment to realize this little human was familiar to him.

Kimber was aware the Lazarus was holding her by the leg, inverted so she was roughly level with his groin. The blood was rushing to her head, but she stopped fidgeting. A moment later he flung her into the wall. The material the jail was made of wouldn't break even if Lazarus rammed it with all his might. Of course it didn't yield for her. She hit with such force, so much pain rattled through her bones, she truly believed she would just lay down and die at that very moment. Every bone felt broken. She tasted blood and felt it ooze into her ears and nose. She whined and cried and Lazarus stalked over and lifted her very close to his face. He squeezed her so tight it felt as if her insides were going to come out of her mouth. He spoke very calmly, "Give me a reason not to kill you."

She shrugged, dazed. Her tongue felt swollen and speaking was difficult, but she managed; "I have none. You have every right. Just, make it quick, please."

He noticed the crusted indigo on her arm. His other hand took her wrist and lifted her to his snout, sniffing her fingers. She tried to pull her hand back. "Lazarus?" she asked.

He opened his mouth and lapped at her, the thick warm appendage moving over her skin and between her fingers, tasting her experimentally. "Stop," she said, yanking her arm back, but he slurped like she would spaghetti, swallowing her arm up to her elbow, then up to her shoulder. She screamed, pushing against his face with her free hand. Now he was nibbling, his warm tongue sucking and slurping, forming a funnel. The warm breath from his nostrils blew over her face. Warm and slimy and sickly. When she punched his eye and he just caught her other wrist and forced it to her side. When she kicked he caught her legs and that's how he held her. She began to sob, crying for him to stop as she looked helplessly at the curve of his thick lips. Of all the ways to die, this had to be the most embarrassing. Finally, he pulled her back and dropped her to the floor, the ungodly coating of drool covering her arm actually making her forget the pain.

"Sangheili blood?" he mused.

"I could have told you that," she screamed, wiping her arm on the thickness of the fur on his belly. She tried punching him, but only ended up hurting her hand on the muscle. "Couldn't you just ask?"

"Of course, but that was more fun. Who's blood is it?"

She had to swallow her bile as the smell that now clung to her skin hit her. "The one who killed your son."

Eyes narrowed. "Why would you do that?"

"We had an agreement, Prin broke it. I know what it's like to lose a loved one, but I've never had the luxury of knowing that he has been avenged." She sniffled, trying to stop her crying. "Still hungry?"

He was staring. She felt nervous. Slowly, he lowered to his knee. When the door to the jail opened, he took hold of her and sat down, his back to the cell's forth wall. His arms surrounded her, and he squeezed her close to his chest, a finger muffling her shouts of protest. She stopped when the pressing finger nearly broke her jaw. She sank into the puffiness of overgrown, foul smelling fur. Eyes were wet but she knew better than to struggle or he would just twist off her head. To tolerate this latest atrocity, she began chewing on the thick leather of his finger. He didn't seem to mind.

"Meal, Brute," a deep baritone voice said. "I don't understand why the shipmaster wants you fed, but I've my orders. Brute!"

Lazarus snorted over his shoulder, and returned to keeping her tightly concealed.

She heard heavy footsteps and the door to the jail open and close. Lazarus' warm breath blew over her. He looked over his shoulder before setting her on her feet, standing up himself. "Thank you," he said. She sighed angrily, walking over to the lavatory and washing her arm of the quickly drying saliva. And even then she could smell it. God, why couldn't he just kill her and be done with it? Slouching, her eyes down, she walked back to him, afraid of what his next cruelty would be, but it wasn't as if there was any place to hide in the cell. He was still on his knees, and she cringed when her vision was eclipsed by his approaching hand. She struggled even harder when he pulled her close. His hand moved under her rump and lifted her up, bit by bit until she could reach up and take hold of the vent. She hoisted herself up, when safely inside turned around to look at him. He went back to sit in the corner, paying her no mind.

---

She was more careful moving through the vent this time; despite how dizzy she was after Lazarus threw her against the wall. Finally, she reached her destination: a storage area. The same place they had tended to Lazarus she guessed since it was empty of not only Sangheili, but things to store. The place she had planned to come out at. The Sangheili probably didn't want to set foot inside because of the work that was done. Lazarus' spilled blood would contaminate everything. Once they had the time, they would probably purge it with chlorine and fire.

She hung down from the ventilation shaft, looking down at the spiraling height she was at. Holding her breath, she dropped, rolling along the ground and to a stop. Her head was throbbing. Possibly a concussion. She just had to make sure not to go to sleep for a while. She hurried out, leaving the room and entering the hallway. Seeing no one, she started calmly down the hall.

"Ma'am, what are you doing out here?" a passing Sangheili minor asked.

She paused, craning her neck up to face him. That sent a sharp pain through her spine that she did her best not to show. "Human stuff," she said dumbly. "Because I'm a human."

The Sangheili exchanged glances. If Sangheili rolled their eyes to show annoyance, she imagined they were doing it now. She couldn't see their eyes, given their height. "Please remain in the areas allotted for humans."

They didn't recognize her. That was certainly for the best. "Yes sirs." She scurried down the hallways, turning a blind corner and running into something as solid as a brick wall.

"Nicole?" Orff asked. His firm hands took her around the ribs and held her close, her feet dangling off the ground. "What happened to you?"

She assumed he was referring to her bruises. She could feel her left eye swelling shut and a few teeth felt loose. "I hit a doorknob," she said dazed.

He held her close, against his chest. "You shouldn't be here." She felt the bouncing of his strides as he moved down the hallway, through the winding corridors until they reached the room she assumed Orff had been given by Rtas. He put her down on the room's bed before locking the door. She scurried to her side as he turned and sat down. He would have crushed her legs if she hadn't pulled them to her chest. "Asshole," she muttered.

But he wasn't in a playful mood. "Nicole, who did this to you? Was it one of my brothers?" His snout twitched. "You smell like Lazarus. You didn't go to see him did you? Nicole, he could have killed you."

"We killed his son," she snapped. "He had every right to worse." She caught herself. "But he didn't. I just wanted to give my condolences." She looked at him. "You alright?" She stood on the bed and wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning a little on his back, rubbing him with her cheek.

He didn't push her away, but he didn't really notice her either. "No, I'm not alright. What good have I done for Lazarus? I should have let him die with the ignorance that his son still drew breath. Now he has lived to know his son has been taken, his line ended. He will live to see his world burn and then he will be put to death." He sighed, leaning his head into her chest. "All this time, we have learned nothing. We seek to crush instead of build. Burn bridges instead of cross them. Thank you, lieutenant, for your steady hand and keen mind. Thank you for everything." He placed a finger on her arm. She squeezed tighter.

"You did the right thing," she said. "I know it doesn't feel right, but give it time. Lazarus will live. Even if his planet burns, he will live."

"A shallow life. An empty one. If time proves my decisions wrong?"

"Que sera, sera," she muttered under her breath. "What will be, will be."


	11. The Commentary

Commentary

Alright, this is a commentary of both Sympathy for the Devil and Veni, Vidi, Vici. I assume you have read VVV, but if you haven't read 'Devil yet, I really think that you should. These two stories are very heavily entwined. I also reference Kingdom Come so you should probably read that. For all reference, the time chronology is:

Sympathy for the Devil takes place sometime before Halo 1, one or two decades.

Kingdom Come takes place two years after the end of Halo 3.

Veni, Vidi, Vici takes place one year after Kingdom Come, three years after Halo 3.

Personally, I like how Kingdom Come came out. I worked Kimber well, I worked Thantus well, I worked Rtas well, and I worked the colonel well. The only problem in retrospect was the colonel killing Colt. Kalashnikov cold bloodedly shooting his fellow man went against everything that I had done with the character. What I really should have done is Colt jumps him, and Kalashnikov shoots him in self defense or as a reflex. The colonel then goes as far as dismissing some of his guard to get medical supplies for Colt and Savage, because the colonel wasn't meant to be an evil character. I really tried to develop him into, at the very least, a characters who's motivation is understandable and is sympathetic. And then he executes someone, pop, pop. No real reason, just him being…not even a monster…just a dick. What the hell was I thinking? But I did what I did, and I couldn't go back and change it.

As I mentioned, I started writing what would become VVV before I even thought to do 'Devil. I wrote out an opening three chapters, which involved Felicia skipping through the woods as in chapter 1. She stumbles upon Lazarus, and Lazarus sends her off. Chapter two she returns home, tells her parents she saw "a giant vanilla ape" (her not knowing what a Brute is). Her father realizes there is a Brute in the forest, and the story would go as it did with a platoon getting killed, though they would be killed on screen. Chapter three would be a Sangheili coming down and going into the woods. The rest of the story would be allying with the Jiralhanae, fighting the Flood. The Jiralhanae and the Sangheili wouldn't have a prior relationship, and things would be much more tense. But after the third chapter, I just hit a wall and had no idea what to do. I decided the Sangheili and the Jiralhanae had to have a prior relationship or them allying, even against a common enemy of the Flood, just wouldn't work, so I started working on a prequel. Because Sangheili and Jiralhanae just hate each other so badly, that they needed a lot of time to ease their tensions.

The sequel was meant to show two important things: set the stage that the humans were planning to use Flood as weapons, and give a lot of screen time to Jiralhanae and the Sangheili character's relationship to them. Since it was a prequel, I could use Thantus, who was a central character of Kingdom Come. But he couldn't be the central character, since he dies before VVV, so I needed to introduce a Jiralhanae youth, who would most likely be Orff's age (or the Jiralhanae equivalent, I assume Jiralhanae age slower than Sangheili). So Lazar was born.

The italic prologue in the beginning of each chapter: Those were originally going to be said by an anonymous person, and they were originally very minimalist, robotic, like a service report. I couldn't figure out a way for Orff to find out how the humans had the Flood or what their intentions for them were, but this allows the audience to understand. By VVV, Orff either finds out through contacts or deduces what they were doing.

I remembered how disappointed I was with that one scene of the colonel shooting Colt, and I began to think about incorporating him. He was always going to be beaten by Orff in the last chapter, since he mentions he was hurt in the war to Kimber, but the prologue was not going to be attributed to him.

The prologue went through a lot of drafts. Finally I started writing them progressively darker. Chapter 1's is very basic explanation of how they have a sample of Flood. I needed it just to get things out of the way. Chapter 2 is his arguing in favor of such an offensive. Chapter 3 is his willingness to murder innocent in war, his belief that innocence doesn't exist amongst the enemy. I like Chapter 4 because I hope that it shows a level of tragedy to the colonel's character. He is more than willing to sacrifice everything he has: his life, his name, his legacy. He would go down in the history books as a monster. In Kingdom Come, Kimber even pleads with Kalashnikov, mentioning that his raids will be his legacy, which he just shrugs off. He doesn't want glory at all, he wants humanity to be safe. I've read a lot of classical literature where the heroes seem to go to war for no reason other than glory. So the colonel is the opposite of that. Chapter 5 is the main turn of darkness, and his tone kind of shifts. He is fully aware that he is a monster and damnation is inevitable, which is why he's so willing to kill civilians and damn himself. Finally, Chapter 6 really speaks for itself. Kind of the "Dun dun dun!" moment. I always love those.

Lazar is still young enough he hasn't really felt the Sangheili oppression yet. He just sees Orff as a fellow soldier. Sornelus has felt it, and is filled with anger, but struggles to maintain his devotion to duty. Thantus similarly is angry, but he is able to recognize Orff's value and dedication to duty. So the three of them are three dots on the spectrum.

Shifting Lazar to Lazarus was interesting. He's a little rougher, he's cruder, more like a Jiralhanae, yet at the same time has the deep respect for Orff. Orff's changes from 'Devil to VVV: he's calmer, more mature, more adult, and more respectful. Bare in mind, nearly a decade and a half separate the two, they are going to grow. I'm actually thinking of doing an interquel, that will show more evolution of their characters. Perhaps just Orff talking about sympathy for the humans, and Lazarus talking about Sangheili oppression. Them sharing a ship or something.

Lazarus is a difficult character to write. I love Jiralhanae, but you can't make them squeaky clean good guys like you can humans or even Sangheili. He's a Jiralhanae: he's vicious, he's violent, he's cruel and hates humans and Sangheili. At the same time, he has to be sympathetic and likable so that the reader does care about him. The fact that Jiralhanae are not well liked to begin with didn't help matters, since I had to make him extra likable. Where as Orff can be the loner badass, and probably could have killed a few innocent people but would be liked simply because he's a Sangheili, Lazarus had to be brutal, yet complex. Like I did with Rtas in Kingdome Come, I use Kimber to settle these problems. He can be cruel and evil, but at the same time he does show a lot of restraint. I mean, if he blew hard enough she would probably break in half. At times he protects her, but is he protecting her or protecting himself?

Kimber wasn't originally going to be in VVV. Instead, I was going to introduce a Spartan-III, Lisa-106. I wrote all of VVV out with Lisa in Kimber's role, but looking at it, I thought that Kimber's history with Thantus would give her an in with Lazarus, and she would also show her growing admiration for the Sangheili. She's begun to get over her fiancé's death, though still carries those scars. Also, her size is important. A Spartan-III who's 6'8" without armor would be able to hold her own against a Sangheili or a Jiralhanae. Maybe not win, but she would be able to survive a fight for a while at least. I originally made Kimber so small so that Rtas would have complete dominance over her. There was never a time when she wasn't in his mercy. Similarly, both Orff and Lazarus could, if they wanted to, do whatever they want to her. She knows this, and they know this, so it's a bit of stress on both parties. At the same time, Orff is very protective of her, viewing her either as a sister or a daughter, maybe a bit of both. Lazarus' actions are a bit ambiguous, whether he does consciously protect her from harm, or it's just a right place, right time type of thing. I think it's a bit of two.

Ameday was always going to die. He never ever had a chance. It was going to be Major Jones executing him, then Kimber was going to sneak into his room through the ventilation shaft, kill him and make it look like a suicide, then sneak back out. She was going to do this under orders from Lord Hood, and Rtas or Orff wouldn't know about it. In the end I didn't want Jones to commit such an evil act, so instead it was a Sangheili. First, Kimber was going to sneak into his room and kill him, but I wondered, how could she have the strength to position his body to make it look like a suicide. So then I figured Rtas, disgusted by the murder as well as having gained respect for Thantus, aids her. But I didn't want Rtas' involvement to be clear. What did he mean by "I'll handle it, you have to trust me"? Its meant to be open ended. Ask yourself: could Rtas kill one of his own men in such a way? Even if he order Kimber to do it, there is that detachment of him not killing him directly.

Orff went through a lot of drafts. When I was doing VVV (this was before 'Devil was under way and his back-story wasn't solid), he was going to have joined with the Heretics from Halo 2. He survived the Arbiter and Rtas' raid on their colony, and was imprisoned. With the schism, he isn't freed, but is forgotten about in the jail. He is finally freed following the treaty, and accepts a position as black-ops directly under Rtas. Following Kingdom Come, Rtas, Arbiter, and Lord Hood all decide they need a force of peace keepers. Orff would be a disposable agent, already considered a heretic, his betrayal wouldn't be seen as anything surprising. Instead, his bit of shame and glass ceiling came from his association with the Jiralhanae.

Every chapter of VVV was going to open with a dialogue in italics. At first, it was going to be a series of short dialogues, spoken by Orff and to be delivered to his son when he came of age. After I found out about Sangheili father/son relationships, I changed the words around, and it was going to be Lazarus addressing Ameday (even now, Ameday was going to die. He was fucked from the beginning). When I really started writing out 'Devil, I shifted that device to that story, which I think was for the best, since it worked so well. Otherwise I couldn't think of a way to explain how the humans obtained the Flood and what they intended to do with them. I hate that Bungie doesn't explain their stories out too well.

Way back when, after I had just written the first chapter and had no solid idea, Lazarus was going to die. He was going to sacrifice himself, either holding back the Flood until the base is destroyed or throwing himself onto the Gravemind with grenades strapped on his chest. Orff (Kimber wasn't in this draft) was going to be rescued by the _Shadow of Intent_, only to find out that Ameday had been executed before he even left the colony. The final transmission thing at the very end was going to be Lazarus telling Ameday that everything was going to be alright, that he loved him, and that Orff would protect him, then you were going to find out it was Lazarus speaking. Prior, it would have been ambiguous, with implications to Orff talking, or even the Jones type of character or Rtas or anyone but Lazarus. I didn't use this for a few reasons. For one, I figured that if I keep killing off my Jiralhanae, I'm going to run out of them. I still kind of feel bad for killing Thantus. Similarly, his dying seemed too similar to Thantus. Also, this seemed even more depressing than what I ended up doing, at least immediately. Actually, what I chose is in some ways worse, because Lazarus now has to live with the knowledge of his son's death and live out his days without him. All alone, locked in a cell, mocked and ridiculed by the crew of the _Shadow of Intent_, until eventually his planet is destroyed and he is put to death.

So, as far as the future goes, the finale of my canon has been and still is Que Sera, Sera. See my profile for details. I've been building towards that this entire time. I have an idea of how to do that story and how it would go, but nothing solid enough to start writing, let alone give you a serious date. The next story I will probably be writing is Justice for All. I've got a few chapters down, but I just can't focus on anything. If you want me to contact you when I get that under way, let me know. And please, leave a lot of purdy reviews to tell me what you think.

Thank you, everyone who's been reading,

-Exilo


End file.
